DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


Treasure  %oom 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

OF 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

VOL.   II  — PART  III 


Phillips  Brooks 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


OF 


a 


tjtlltps  Hroofes 


BY 


ALEXANDER  Y.  G.  ALLEN 


ILLUSTRATED 


|&eto  fork 

E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY 
MDCCCCI 


COPYRIGHT,    I9OO,    BY 

ALEXANDER    V.    G.   ALLEN 

WILLIAM    G.   BROOKS,    ELIZABETH   W.   BROOKS,  JOHN    C.   BROOKS 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


<$too  $unbreb  anb  JFiftg  Copied 
f&rinteb.    dumber  ...s?..?4r. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1886. 

PAOE 

Portraits  of  Phillips  Brooks  at  the  Age  of  Fifty.  —  Mis- 
apprehensions of  his  Position.  —  Essay  on  Biography.  — 
Election  as  Assistant  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania.  —  Visit  to 
California.  —  Abolition  of  Compulsory  Attendance  on 
Religious  Services  at  Harvard.  —  North  Andover.  — 
Chautauqua  Address  on  Literature  and  Life.  —  Death 
of  Richardson.  —  Fourth  Volume  of  Sermons.  —  Protest 
against  changing  the  Name  of  the  Episcopal  Church  .    .    591 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

1887. 
Incidents  in  Parish  Life.  —  Invitation  to  deliver  the 
Bampton  Lectures.  —  Extracts  from  Note-Books.  —  Ser- 
mons at  Faneuil  Hall.  —  St.  Andrew's  Mission  Church.  — 
Tenth  Anniversary  of  the  Consecration  of  Trinity 
Church.  —  Sermon  at  Andover.  —  Summer  in  Europe.  — 
Illness.  —  Correspondence 644 

CHAPTER  XX. 

1888. 
Railway  Accident  in  Philadelphia.  —  Incidents  of  Parish 
Life.  —  Lenten  Services.  —  Correspondence.  — Sentiment 
and  Sentimentality.  —  Comments  on  "  Robert  Elsmere." 
—  Thanksgiving  Sermon 670 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

1889. 
Watch  Night.  —  Occasional  Addresses.  —  Lenten  Services 
at  Trinity  Church.  —  Illness.  —  Summer  in  Japan.  — 
Extracts  from  Note-Books.  —  The  General  Convention.  — 
Social  and  Political  Reforms.  —  The  Evangelical  Alli- 
ance. —  Correspondence 699 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

1890. 
Speech  at  the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  —  Lenten  Addresses 
in  Trinity  Church,  New  York.  —  Change  in  Manner  of 
Preaching.  —  Correspondence.  —  Address  at  the  Church 
Congress.  —  Thanksgiving  Sermon 729 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
1859-1893. 
Characteristics.  —  Reminiscences.  —  Anecdotes.  —  Parish 
Ministry.  —  Estimates 762 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
1891. 
Lent  at  Trinity  Church.  —  Noon  Lectures  at  St.  Paul's.  — 
Election  to  the  Episcopate.  —  The  Controversy  follow- 
ing the  Election.  —  Extracts  from  Correspondence    .    .    817 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

1891-1892. 
Consecration  as  Bishop.  —  The  Church  Congress  at  Wash- 
ington. —  Administrative  Capacity.  —  Illness.  —  Lenten 
Addresses.  —  Union  Service  on  Good  Friday.  —  Conven- 
tion Address.  —  Correspondence.  —  Summer  Abroad.  — 
English  Volume  of  Sermons.  —  Return  to  Boston.  —  St. 
Andrew's  Brotherhood.  —  The  General  Convention  in 
Baltimore.  —  Death  of  Tennyson.  —  Correspondence    .    .    873 

1893. 

Conclusion 930 

Index 947 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Phillips  Brooks  at  the  Age  of  Fifty,  photographed  by  H.  G. 
Smith.     Photogravure Frontispiece 

Phillips  Brooks  at  the  Age  of  Fifty,  from  a  photograph  by 
H.  G.  Smith.     Photogravure 596 

Phillips  Brooks  at  the  Age  of  Fifty,  from  the  portrait  by 
Mrs.  Henry  Whitman.     Photogravure 664 

Rev.  Arthur  Brooks 726 

Rectory  of  Trinity  Church  :  The  Study 794 

Phillips  Brooks  at  the  Age  of  Fifty-five,  from  a  photo- 
graph by  Pach  Brothers.     Photogravure 886 

Phillips  Brooks  at  the  Age  of  Fifty-six,  from  a  photograph 
by  Elliott  &  Fry.     Photogravure 936 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

1886 

PORTRAITS  OF  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  AT  THE  AGE  OF  FIFTY. 
MISAPPREHENSIONS  OF  HIS  POSITION.  ESSAY  ON  BIOGRA- 
PHY. ELECTION  AS  ASSISTANT  BISHOP  OF  PENNSYL- 
VANIA. VISIT  TO  CALIFORNIA.  VIEWS  ON  IMMIGRATION. 
ABOLITION  OF  COMPULSORY  ATTENDANCE  ON  RELIGIOUS 
SERVICES  AT  HARVARD.  NORTH  ANDOVER.  CHAUTAUQUA 
ADDRESS  ON  LITERATURE  AND  LIFE.  DEATH  OF  RICH- 
ARDSON. FOURTH  VOLUME  OF  SERMONS.  PROTEST 
AGAINST  CHANGING  THE  NAME  OF  THE  PROTESTANT  EPIS- 
COPAL  CHURCH 

Phillips  Brooks  was  now  walking  the  high  table-land 
of  human  renown,  followed  by  the  devotion  and  love  of  the 
people,  to  an  extent  beyond  conventional  bounds  in  its 
manifestation.  There  was  mingled  with  the  popular  devo- 
tion a  sense  of  reverence  which,  in  spite  of  his  will,  and 
strive  as  he  might  against  it,  kept  him  somewhat  separate 
and  apart,  as  though  he  were  made  in  a  different  mould,  no 
longer  to  be  ranked  with  ordinary  men,  but  something  phe- 
nomenal in  human  experience.  It  needed  no  effort  to  gain 
him  a  hearing,  the  final  conquest  had  been  assured  in  a 
sway  which  all  men  acknowledged.  There  had  been  strange 
and  unacknowledged  misgivings  about  him  when  he  passed 
out  of  sight  for  a  year,  in  what  seemed  to  be  an  inexplicable 
silence.  Misgivings,  however,  had  faded  away  when  he 
returned  in  the  fulness  of  his  power,  with  his  charm  un- 
abated, resuming  again  the  preaching  of  the  same  old  and 
familiar  gospel,  yet  with  a  certain  indescribable  tenderness 
and  pathos  in  his  appeal  which  exceeded  anything  in  his 
previous  years.  The  ablest  and  the  most  learned  bore  this 
testimony,  as  the  unlearned  and  the  poor  felt  it  and  gave  it 


\ 


592  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

recognition  in  their  own  way.  One  of  the  most  eminent  of 
American  scholars  said  only  what  others  felt,  that  Phillips 
Brooks  seemed  to  have  the  leverage  for  moving  the  world. 
A  highly  cultivated  lady,  a  Unitarian  in  her  religious  faith, 
said  that  when  she  heard  him  for  the  first  time  she  could 
have  gone  down  on  her  knees  and  kissed  the  hem  of  his  gar- 
ment. The  popular  faith  expressed  itself  in  strange  un- 
wonted ways.  One  case  will  suffice  for  many.  There  were 
two  poor  women  in  Salem,  belonging  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  who  had  never  seen  or  heard  him,  and  one  of  them 
tells  the  other,  bemoaning  her  boy  falling  into  evil  ways, 
that  the  thing  to  do  is  to  take  him  to  Phillips  Brooks.  Peo- 
ple from  far  or  near,  in  critical  moments  when  the  issues  of 
life  were  in  the  balances,  thought  of  Phillips  Brooks.  It 
made  no  difference  whether  they  knew  him  or  not,  whether 
they  were  connected  with  the  church  in  any  of  its  forms  or 
not,  his  name  carried  with  it  some  magical  appeal;  they 
called  for  his  aid;  and  it  must  be  said  he  never  disappointed 
them.  He,  too,  had  learned  his  lesson,  as  well  as  they.  He 
remarked  that  there  were  many  living  the  gospel  while  he  was 
only  preaching  it.  The  time  had  gone  by,  at  last,  when  he 
could  look  forward  to  the  future,  as  bringing  him  the  leisure 
for  study  of  which  he  had  dreamed.  If  he  had  once  cher- 
ished ambitions  in  that  direction,  he  had  renounced  them 
now,  or  seen  their  futility.  The  work  that  remained  was 
to  keep  on  till  the  end,  giving  himself  to  every  claim.  He 
did  not  understand  it,  or  try  to  do  so.  But  he  knew  that  he 
possessed  the  gift,  in  his  presence  and  in  his  word,  and  he 
gave  himself,  reckless  of  health  or  any  other  consideration. 
There  was  a  new  pleasure  in  this  spendthrift  exercise  of  his 
power,  as  though  he  had  at  last  learned  the  secret  of  true 
living.  He  was  drinking  more  deeply  of  the  joy  of  life,  be- 
cause, as  the  years  went  on,  he  was  convinced  that  it  had  its 
roots  not  in  the  mere  exuberance  of  animal  spirits  belonging 
to  youth,  but  was  grounded  in  God.  He  believed  in  conver- 
sion, not  as  the  work  of  a  moment,  or  at  any  moment  com- 
plete, but  rather  a  lifelong  process,  with  ever  recurring 
stages  of  deeper  consecration  to  the  divine  will.      To  the 


jet.  50]  POPULAR  ESTIMATE  $93 

world  his  life  seemed  like  one  constant  succession  of  con- 
quests and  victories,  a  triumphal  procession  in  the  broad 
sunlight,  without  reverses  or  failures.  His  inner  life  he  still 
kept  to  himself,  but  there  were  epochs  and  crises  in  his  ex- 
perience of  which,  indeed,  he  makes  no  formal  record,  but 
in  his  preaching  he  discloses  them  impersonally,  to  those 
who  had  the  ears  to  hear.  His  sermons  are  his  autobio- 
graphy. 

The  flowing  years  did  not  diminish  the  beauty  of  the  coun- 
tenance, or  the  dignity  and  symmetry  of  form,  but  lent 
rather  a  higher  beauty,  wherein  might  be  read  the  traces  of 
some  deep  inward  moods  purifying  and  enriching  the  whole 
nature;  depths  ever  deeper,  of  a  soul  that  had  fathomed, 
if  it  were  possible,  the  mystery  of  human  existence.  So  he 
appeared.  The  "royal  carriage,"  the  "kingly  majesty,"  the 
"exquisite  beauty,"  the  "spirit  of  childhood,"  but  combined 
with  "the  virile  strength  of  manhood,"  —  these  were  the 
phrases  applied  to  him.  A  fineness  and  delicacy  unsurpassed 
in  women,  but  utter  freedom  from  any  remotest  approach 
to  sentimentality  ;  the  powerful  rugged  will  that,  when 
roused,  was  like  the  whirlwind ;  scorn  for  whatever  was  base 
or  unworthy  written  all  over  him ;  the  love  of  the  beautiful, 
which  entered  into  his  religion  and  his  life,  making  it  an 
end  to  do  always  whatever  should  seem  beautiful  to  all, 
showing  itself  also  in  little  things,  the  minutiae  of  life  and 
manner;  what  was  rarest  of  all,  perfect  simplicity  and  nat- 
uralness, with  total  absence  of  anything  like  affectation  or 
hint  of  self-consciousness,  as  though  he  never  gave  himself 
a  thought ;  and  utter  transparency,  until  the  nature  within 
was  revealed  in  the  voice  and  look ;  the  mastery  of  human 
speech,  so  that  he  could  say  the  things  which  were  important 
and  vital  with  a  grace  and  clearness  and  force  that  was  as 
admirable  as  it  was  rare,  yet  the  result  of  long  and  severe 
practice  and  of  constant  study,  —  such  were  some  of  the 
characteristics  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  he  now  stood  forth  in 
the  years  which  remain  to  be  reviewed.  In  any  company, 
however  distinguished,  he  carried  the  highest  distinction  in 
appearance;  even  when  foreign  visitors  were  present,  whom 

vol.  n 


594  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

all  were  anxious  to  see,  it  was  Phillips  Brooks  upon  whom 
the  interest  centred  and  the  gaze  was  concentrated.  In  his 
stature  he  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  ordinary  men,  but 
so  perfect  was  the  symmetry  of  his  proportions  that,  as  was 
said  of  him  by  a  lady  with  a  fine  discrimination,  which  the 
common  judgment  of  the  time  would  approve,  it  was  not  he 
that  looked  large,  but  other  men  that  looked  small.  He 
seemed  to  stand  for  the  type  of  the  normal  man. 

But  what  was  most  remarkable  was  that,  when  any  one 
came  near  to  the  man,  as  near  as  he  ever  allowed  any  one 
to  come,  there  was  found  in  him  the  heart  of  a  simple  boy 
playing  with  life  as  it  went  on  around  him,  as  any  boy 
at  his  games;  or,  better  still,  it  was  the  veritable  life  of  a 
child,  with  childhood's  delight,  interest,  and  curiosity,  free- 
dom from  care,  freshness  of  outlook,  perpetual  wonder,  and 
all  this  with  such  rare  manhood  at  his  call,  such  intense 
earnestness,  such  intellectual  power  and  insight,  such  know- 
ledge of  men  and  of  the  world,  as  to  make  the  transition 
from  the  one  phase  to  the  other  a  constant  marvel.  He  gave 
his  capacious,  loving  heart  full  scope  for  its  exercise,  yet 
concentrated  his  energies  upon  one  supreme  purpose,  going 
forth  to  meet  every  soul  with  the  same  boundless  affection 
and  earnest,  impassioned  longing  for  its  salvation.  Behind 
it  all  lay  his  theology,  —  every  sermon  revealed  him,  but  let 
the  reader  turn  to  a  sermon  entitled  "  The  Priority  of  God," 
which  will  give,  as  well  as  any,  the  secret  of  the  hiding-place 
of  his  power. 

These,  then,  were  the  things  that  were  true  of  him,  or  that 
the  people  were  saying  and  thinking  of  him,  in  the  years  to 
which  we  are  now  to  turn.  He  wrote  many  letters  at  this 
time,  a  large  part  of  them  letters  of  friendship,  for  his 
friends  were  grown  to  a  multitude,  and  he  had  a  genius  for 
friendship;  but  most  of  his  letters  are  too  personal  to  be 
given  in  full,  and  the  extracts  will  seem  but  tame.  It  is  by 
putting  the  letters  and  the  sermons  together  that  we  get  the 
approximate  conception  of  the  man. 

In  this  year,  1886,  he  sat  for  his  photograph,  in  order, 
apparently,  to  give  his  sanction  to   the  picture  which  he 


jet.  50]  PORTRAITS  595 

henceforth  would  be  willing  to  distribute  to  friends  who 
called  for  it.  He  was  averse  to  allowing  his  photographs  to 
be  exposed  for  sale,  giving  the  strictest  injunctions  to  pre- 
vent it ;  and  not  until  the  last  years  of  his  life  was  this  em- 
bargo removed,  with  his  consent.  These  photographs,  taken 
in  1886,  are  the  best,  and,  indeed,  almost  the  only  ones, 
which  fairly  represent  him.  As  one  studies  them,  he  sees 
the  distance  travelled  since  the  portrait  was  made  at  the  age 
of  twenty -two,  given  as  the  frontispiece  of  the  first  volume. 
The  mouth  has  now  grown  to  express  the  firmness  of  the  dis- 
ciplined will.  The  look  of  intensity  and  wonder,  with  which 
he  was  taking  in  the  world  of  the  divine  revelation,  still 
lingers  in  the  background,  but  there  is  added  the  effect  of 
the  experience  of  life,  and  of  the  many  years  of  strenuous 
endeavor  to  bring  the  world  to  his  own  standard.  There  is 
no  faintest  touch  of  disappointment  or  disillusion  with  life 
written  here,  and  yet  a  strangely  solemn  expression  in  con- 
trast with  the  merriment,  the  humor,  or  the  scorn,  in  the  pic- 
tures of  his  middle  years.  In  one  of  these  now  familiar  pho- 
tographs, the  head  is  thrown  back  as  in  the  consciousness  of 
his  power,  —  a  leonine  face  and  head,  with  a  masterful  au- 
thority stamped  thereon.  In  the  other,  which  has  become 
deservedly  the  popular  favorite,  the  head  slightly  droops,  and 
the  air  and  consciousness  of  power  has  yielded  to  a  deep  ten- 
derness in  the  large  dark  eyes.  There  is  simplicity  here  and 
total  humility,  as  of  a  man  possessed  with  the  sense  of  his 
own  unworthiness,  not  sad  but  yet  resigned,  the  far-seeing 
eyes  taking  in  the  tragedy  and  the  pathos  of  life,  but  looking 
beyond  into  the  eternal  mystery,  as  though  he  were  repeat- 
ing these  words  of  his  own,  "  Let  us  be  clear-souled  enough  to 
look  through  and  behind  the  present  connection  of  life  and 
pain,  and  know  that  in  its  essence  life  is  not  pain,  but  joy; " 
or  again:  "It  is  the  half -seriousness  that  is  gloomy.  The  full 
seriousness,  the  life  lived  in  its  deepest  consciousness,  is  as 
full  of  joy  as  it  is  of  seriousness." 

It  was  about  the  time  when  these  photographs  were  taken 
that  he  spoke,  in  his  essay  on  Literature  and  Life,  of 
those  qualities  in   art  separating  a  true  portrait   from   a 


S96  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

photograph.  "A  portrait  has  a  value  of  its  own,  entirely 
independent  of  its  likeness  to  the  man  who  sat  for  it;  a 
photograph  has  none."  He  declined  requests  to  sit  for  his 
portrait.  To  his  friend,  Mr.  S.  H.  Russell,  who  had  asked 
that  Mr.  Vinton  should  be  allowed  to  paint  his  portrait,  he 
sent  the  following  letter,  not  to  be  taken  too  literally,  and 
yet  indicating  what  was  more  than  a  passing  mood :  — 

175  Marlborough  Street,  Boston,  February  17,  1880. 

My  dear  Mr.  Russell,  —  I  thank  you  very  heartily  for  your 
kind  note.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  me  to  know  that  you  would 
care  to  have  my  picture  painted,  and  Mr.  Vinton  flatters  me  very 
much  by  wanting  to  paint  it. 

But,  my  dear  Mr.  Russell,  to  have  one's  portrait  painted  has 
always  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  very  great  and  solemn  thing,  to  be 
given  as  a  privilege  to  very  great  people  as  they  are  getting  to 
the  end  of  life.  I  have  almost  a  superstition  about  it.  The 
modern  promiscuousness  of  the  cheap  photograph  seems  to  me  to 
have  taken  the  sacredness  in  large  part  from  one  of  the  most 
sacred  things.  Let  us  preserve  the  venerableness  of  the  portrait. 
I  am  really  serious  about  this,  and  I  shall  not  think  for  twenty 
years  yet,  even  if  I  dare  to  think  it  then,  that  I  have  any  right 
to  be  painted.   .   .   . 

Yours  most  faithfully, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

There  is  one  portrait  of  Phillips  Brooks  painted  by  Mrs. 
Henry  Whitman,  wherein  has  been  preserved  a  certain  qual- 
ity of  expression  which  his  photographs  do  not  give.  Not 
only  does  it  present  the  strength  and  grace  of  his  stature, 
but  the  artist  has  caught  what  was,  after  all,  the  deepest,  the 
most  distinctive  quality  of  his  nature,  the  eternal  child-like- 
ness, —  something  of  that  expression  on  his  face,  in  those 
wonderful  afternoon  sermons  in  Trinity  Church,  which  all 
remember  and  cherish,  but  no  one  can  describe. 

The  love  of  humanity  for  its  own  sake,  the  gifts  of  imagi- 
nation and  sympathetic  insight,  these  qualities,  manifested 
in  his  preaching  from  the  first,  explain,  to  some  extent,  the 
impression  he  made  as  belonging  to  no  one  denomination 
or  branch  of  the  Christian  church,  but  rather  as  belonging 
alike  to  all.     A  Swedenborgian  lady  remarked  to  her  friend 


Phillips  Brooks 


• 


jet.  50]  MISUNDERSTANDINGS  597 

as  she  came  away  from  listening  to  him  that  Dr.  Brooks 
was  a  Swedenborgian.  She  was  told  that  others  said  the 
same  thing  of  him,  that  Unitarians  claimed  him,  that  Metho- 
dists held  him  as  at  heart  one  of  their  own,  and  so  in  other 
churches.  That  was  all  as  it  might  be,  she  said,  but  she 
knew ;  Swedenborgians  had  certain  unfailing  tests  of  know- 
ing, and  she  could  not  be  mistaken.  Indeed,  so  far  did  this 
conviction  carry  people,  that  they  would  sooner  have  believed 
that  Mr.  Brooks  was  mistaken,  or  did  not  understand  him- 
self, when  he  denied  their  claims,  than  that  they  could  pos- 
sibly be  mistaken  in  their  judgment  about  him. 

There  was  danger  in  this  situation,  and  trouble  impending 
for  Phillips  Brooks.  He  was  too  great  a  man  to  be  judged 
by  the  canons  of  sectarian  opinion.  There  was  fear  that  he 
might  be  entangled  in  a  complicated  network  of  misunder- 
standings. But  so  it  was  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  claimed 
by  all  alike,  and  listened  to  by  all,  without  regard  to  reli- 
gious differences  and  divisions.  Methodists  and  Baptists, 
Presbyterians,  Congregationalists,  and  Unitarians,  Sweden- 
borgians, Free  Religionists,  Spiritualists,  Episcopalians, 
Low  Church  and  High,  Roman  Catholics,  Orthodox  Greeks, 
and  peoples  of  no  religion,  —  these  all  bore  the  same  testi- 
mony to  his  power  of  lifting  them  up  to  a  higher  plane  where 
what  they  believed  seemed  to  be  transfigured  in  a  diviner 
light.  He  spoke  to  all  alike,  as  though  it  had  been  his  spe- 
cial privilege  to  learn  their  own  peculiar  religious  dialect. 
To  Methodists  he  revived  the  sense  of  what  Wesley  must 
have  been  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power.  To  Baptists  he 
brought  home  anew  the  importance  of  the  conviction  for 
which  they  stood,  —  the  individual  as  the  final  resort  of  spir- 
itual authority.  To  Congregationalists  he  spoke  preemi- 
nently, as  though  he  still  remained  in  the  fold  of  his  ances- 
tors, and  had  known  no  alien  influence.  In  his  freedom  and 
his  appeal  to  humanity  he  met  the  Unitarian.  Free  Reli- 
gionists made  many  efforts  to  secure  him  as  a  speaker  at 
their  assemblies.  When  he  went  to  England  he  seemed  to 
reflect  the  best  type  of  Anglican  theology. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  were  those  who  were  puzzled 


598  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

rather  than  edified  by  such  an  attitude.  There  must  be 
something  wrong  when  a  man  could  not  be  classified  in  the 
categories  of  religious  opinions,  when  all  were  speaking  well 
of  him.  Among  those  who  sought  to  know  the  sources  of 
his  power  were  the  Unitarians.  Some  of  them  were  very 
confident  that  it  came  from  Channing,  from  Parker,  or  from 
Martineau.  Where  else  could  it  have  come  from  ?  But  then 
there  followed  other  questions:  How  could  Mr.  Brooks  be 
honest  and  yet  remain  in  the  Episcopal  Church?  Apologies 
were  made  for  him  on  the  ground  of  theological  inability,  of 
unconscious  change  of  opinion.  It  was  useless  to  tell  people 
who  did  not  study  religious  history,  or  who  kept  away 
from  the  history  of  the  Anglican  Church  as  by  the  grace  of 
God  preventing  them,  that  the  large  tolerance  and  freedom 
which  Phillips  Brooks  exemplified  had  their  congenial  home 
in  a  national  church,  whose  unwritten  constitution  included 
more  than  one  variety  of  religious  attitude.  It  was  assumed 
that  Mr.  Brooks  had  reacted  and  broken  away  from  the  nar- 
rowness and  severity  of  Puritan  theology;  and  how,  then, 
could  he  remain  in  a  church  whose  standards  it  was  also 
assumed  were  still  affirming  it.  If  two  interpretations  were 
put  upon  the  Thirty  -  Nine  Articles,  one  of  them  must  be 
false.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  hear  such  language  as  this 
concerning  Mr.  Brooks  or  others  of  a  similar  attitude:  "I 
have  no  question  as  to  his  honor,  his  sincerity,  his  devotion 
to  truth  as  he  sees  it,  to  the  church  as  he  believes  in  it,  and 
to  God  as  he  understands  his  duty  to  God.  But  I  think 
his  attitude  is  logically  indefensible.  Grant  his  premises, 
and  I  see  no  reasonable  way  for  stopping  where  he  stops." 
There  was  danger  of  misunderstanding  here,  for  in  Mr. 
Brooks's  own  communion  there  were  some  who  argued  that, 
if  there  were  smoke  there  must  be  some  fire,  that  the  Unita- 
rians would  not  claim  him  for  their  own  unless  he  had  given 
ground  for  the  claim.  The  Unitarians  were  thinking  of  the 
large  humanity  and  the  wide  tolerance,  and  on  the  other  side 
people  were  thinking  of  truths  which  Unitarianism  denied, 
—  the  doctrines  of  the  Trinity  and  the  Incarnation. 

Phillips  Brooks  saw  clearly  the  difficulties  in  which  he 


jet.  50]        ESSAY   ON   BIOGRAPHY  599 

was  involved  by  this  recognition  and  claim  on  the  part  of 
others,  as  well  as  by  his  own  recognition  of  the  various  reli- 
gious bodies  as  having  their  place  and  function  in  the  univer- 
sal church.  But  he  was  not  the  man  to  flinch  from  danger. 
He  did  what  he  could  to  make  his  position  clear,  as  in  his 
lectures  on  Tolerance,  where  he  was  justifying  his  own  atti- 
tude when  he  maintained  that  true  tolerance,  and  affiliation 
even  with  others  of  opposed  beliefs,  does  not  spring  from 
indifference  to  the  truth,  but  is  grounded  on  a  deeper  persua- 
sion of  the  truth. 

In  March  Mr.  Brooks  went  to  Phillips  Academy  at  Exe- 
ter, to  deliver  an  address  on  Biography,  afterwards  pub- 
lished in  pamphlet  form  "at  the  request  of  many  teachers." 
The  address  shows  how  Phillips  Brooks  had  cultivated  in 
himself  that  original  gift,  with  which  he  was  by  nature  en- 
dowed, the  interest  in  human  life  and  the  ability  to  interpret 
its  meaning.  "  Life  "  was  a  word  running  through  all  his 
sermons  and  reappears  in  many  of  their  titles,  —  the  "  Sym- 
metry of  Life,"  the  "Withheld  Completions  of  Life,"  the 
"Battle  of  Life,"  the  "Shortness  of  Life,"  the  "Seriousness 
of  Life,"  the  " Positiveness  of  the  Divine  Life,"  the  "Lib- 
erty of  the  Christian  Life,"  the  "Eternal  Life,"  "New  Starts 
in  Life,"  the  "Sacredness  of  Life,"  "Whole  Views  of  Life," 
the  "Law  of  the  Spirit  of  Life."  This  ever  recurring  word 
is  expressive  of  the  man.  For  every  one  has  his  word  by 
which  we  know  him.  He  had  other  words,  "rich,"  "large," 
"full,"  but  these  were  the  epithets  of  that  commanding  word 
"  life." 

In  the  essay  on  Biography,  he  appears  simply  as  the  stu- 
dent of  life,  dropping  for  the  moment  theories  of  its  purpose 
or  conduct.  He  appears  as  an  omnivorous  reader  of  bio- 
graphies, so  that  when  he  came  to  speak  it  was  from  the  over- 
flowing fulness  of  his  knowledge  combined  with  a  critical 
capacity  for  estimating  the  art  of  biography. 

I  think  that  I  would  rather  have  written  a  great  biography 
than  a  great  book  of  any  other  sort,  as  I  would  rather  have 
painted  a  great  portrait  than  any  other  kind  of  picture. 

The  writing  of  a  biography,  or  indeed  the  proper  reading  of 


600  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

it,  requires  one  faculty  which  is  not  very  common,  and  which  does 
not  come  into  action  without  some  experience,  —  the  power  of  a 
large  vital  imagination,  the  power  of  conceiving  life  as  a  whole. 

There  are  many  things  said  in  this  essay  which  are  redo- 
lent of  his  distinctive  power. 

The  New  Testament  is  a  biography.  Make  it  a  mere  book  of 
dogmas,  and  its  vitality  is  gone.  Make  it  a  book  of  laws,  and 
it  grows  hard  and  untimely.  Make  it  a  biography,  and  it  is  a 
true  book  of  life.  Make  it  the  history  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
and  the  world  holds  it  in  its  heart  forever. 

I  believe  fully  that  the  intrinsic  life  of  any  human  being  is  so 
interesting  that  if  it  can  be  simply  and  sympathetically  put  in 
words,  it  will  be  legitimately  interesting  to  other  men.  There  is 
not  one  of  us  living  to-day  so  simple  and  monotonous  a  life  that, 
if  he  be  true  and  natural,  his  life  faithfully  written  would  not  be 
worthy  of  men's  eyes  and  hold  men's  hearts.  Not  one  of  us, 
therefore,  who,  if  he  be  true  and  pure  and  natural,  may  not, 
though  his  life  never  should  be  written,  be  interesting  and  stimu- 
lating to  his  fellow  men  in  some  small  circle  as  they  touch  his  life. 

Yet  he  condemns  the  exaggeration  of  Mr.  Ruskin  in  his 
saying  that  "the  lives  in  which  the  public  are  interested  are 
hardly  ever  worth  writing."  Notable  and  exceptional  lives 
are  entitled  to  biography,  and  "  distinction  is  a  legitimate 
object  of  our  interest."     He  defines  distinction  as 

the  emphasis  put  upon  qualities  by  circumstances.  He  who  listens 
to  the  long  music  of  human  history,  hears  the  special  stress  with 
which  some  great  human  note  was  uttered  long  ago,  ringing  down 
the  ages  and  mingling  with  and  enriching  the  later  music  of 
modern  days.  It  is  a  perfectly  legitimate  curiosity  with  which 
men  ask  about  that  resonant,  far-reaching  life.  They  are  probably 
asking  with  a  deeper  impulse  than  they  know.  They  are  dimly 
aware  that  in  that  famous,  interesting  man  their  own  humanity  — 
which  it  is  endlessly  pathetic  to  see  how  men  are  always  trying 
and  always  failing  to  understand  —  is  felt  pulsating  at  one  of  its 
most  sensitive  and  vital  points. 

In  the  classification  of  biographies,  he  gives  the  highest 
place  to  Boswell's  Johnson  and  Lockhart's  Scott:  — 

Johnson  and  Scott,  —  so  human  in  their  strength  and  in  their 
weakness,  in  their  virtues  and  in  their  faults :  one  like  a  day  of 
clouds  and  storms,  the  other  like  a  day  of  sunshine  and  bright 


mt.  50]        ESSAY   ON   BIOGRAPHY  601 

breezes,  yet  both  like  Nature,  both  real  in  times  of  unreality, 
both  going  bravely  and  Christianly  into  that  darkness  and  tragi- 
calness  which  settled  at  last  on  both  their  lives. 

The  biographies  of  these  men,  fortunate  in  their  biogra- 
phers, are  to  be  read  and  reread  by  all  who  want  to  keep 
their  manhood  healthy,  broad,  and  brave,  and  true. 

Set  these  two  great  books  first,  then,  easily  first,  among  Eng- 
lish biographies.  The  streets  of  London  and  the  streets  of  Edin- 
burgh live  to-day  with  the  images  of  these  two  men  more  than 
any  others  of  the  millions  who  have  walked  in  them.  But  in  a 
broader  way  the  streets  of  human  nature  still  live  with  their 
presence.  The  unfading  interest  in  Dr.  Johnson  is  one  of  the 
good  signs  of  English  character.  Men  do  not  read  his  books, 
but  they  never  cease  to  care  about  him.  It  shows  what  hold  the 
best  and  broadest  human  qualities  always  keep  on  the  heart  of 
man. 

The  interest  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  biography  as  one  of  the 
fine  arts  must  have  been  nourished  by  that  dream  of  his  own 
to  write  the  life  of  Cromwell,  not  abandoned  until  the  years 
came  which  had  no  leisure  in  them.  In  his  remarks  on 
Cromwell  he  tells  us,  it  may  be,  how  he  would  have  done  it :  — 

You  must  get  deep  into  him.  You  must  see  how  he  led  and 
was  led;  how  he  made  his  times  and  was  made  by  them.  .  .  . 
It  does  not  mean  that  you  are  to  make  him  slavishly  your  hero, 
and  think  everything  he  did  was  right ;  but  get  the  man,  —  his 
hates,  his  loves,  his  dreams,  his  blundering  hopes,  his  noble,  hot, 
half-forged  purposes,  his  faith,  his  doubts,  —  get  all  of  these  in 
one  vehement  person  clear  before  your  soul. 

There  is  another  observation  here  which  is  full  of  insight 
into  the  lives  of  men,  to  the  effect  that  there  are  some  very 
great  men  who  are  unsuited  for  biography ;  and  among  them 
are  Shakespeare,  Shelley,  and  Wordsworth.  The  lives  of 
these  men  are  in  their  poetry.  The  more  profound  and 
spiritual  the  poet,  the  more  impossible  a  biography  of  him 
becomes. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  lecture  he  turns  to  the  men  who 
write  biographies.  There  are  lives  of  men  written  by  them- 
selves, autobiographies,  in  which  English  literature  is  pecul- 
iarly rich ;  lives  of  men  which  are  "  written  by  their  friends, 


6oa  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1886 

whose  atmosphere  must  vary  widely  from  those  biographies 
which  are  written  by  men  who  never  knew  or  saw  their  sub- 
ject, but  have  felt  his  power  and  wish  to  make  it  known  to 
the  world." 

And  finally  instructions  are  given  as  to  how  to  read  bio- 
graphies. The  rule  should  be  to  divest  one's  self  of  the  liter- 
ary sense  as  far  as  possible,  and  read  only  to  get  the  man. 
"Then  you  may  close  and  lose  and  forget  the  book.  The 
man  is  yours  forever."  You  may  begin  to  read  the  biogra- 
phy in  the  middle,  and  when  you  have  become  interested  in 
the  man,  then  you  will  care  to  know 

how  he  came  to  be  what  you  find  him,  — what  his  training 
was;  what  his  youth  was;  who  his  parents  were;  perhaps  who 
his  ancestors  were,  and  who  was  the  first  man  of  his  name  who 
came  over  to  America,  and  where  that  progenitor's  other  de- 
scendants have  settled. 

In  the  spring  of  1886  Dr.  Brooks  was  elected  to  be  As- 
sistant Bishop  of  Pennsylvania,  in  succession  to  Et.  Rev. 
William  Bacon  Stevens,  whose  increasing  infirmities  called 
for  aid  in  his  episcopal  duties.  The  possibility  of  this  elec- 
tion had  already  been  suggested  to  him,  and,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  had  not  encouraged  the  suggestion.  When  the 
question  was  again  brought  before  him  he  wrote  to  Rev. 
W.  F.  Paddock,  of  Philadelphia:  — 

February  26,  1886. 
My  dear  Paddock,  —  The  idea  of  your  writing  to  me  like 
that!  You,  that  have  known  me  from  my  infancy,  that  have 
played  with  me  on  the  pleasant  slopes  of  Shooter's  Hill,  that 
have  roomed  with  me  in  St.  George's,  that  have  preached  side 
by  side  with  me  in  Philadelphia!  That  you  should  think  that 
now,  in  my  declining  years,  I  would  be  a  Bishop !  No,  my  dear 
fellow,  I  was  not  made  for  such  a  fate.  Stop,  I  beseech  you, 
any  movement  that  looks  at  all  towards  setting  me  up  for  that 
most  unsuitable  place.  Kill  it  in  the  nest!  Nip  it  in  the  bud! 
Blight  it  or  ere  it  be  sprung  up!  Yet  let  me  not  appear  like 
a  fool,  declining  and  rejecting  an  office  which  I  never  have  had 
offered  me!  This  letter  is  for  your  own  friendly  eye  alone,  and 
I  tell  you  as  if  we  sat  upon  the  steps  of  St.  George's  and  talked 
it  over,  that  I  am  neither  suited  nor  inclined  to  be  a  Bishop,  nor 
do  I  see  how  anything  could  make  me  be  one.     There ! 


jet.  50]  ELECTED  ASSISTANT   BISHOP     603 

This  letter  would  seem  to  have  been  sufficiently  positive 
in  its  expression  of  unwillingness  to  accept  the  episcopate, 
either  in  Pennsylvania  or  elsewhere,  to  have  decided  the 
matter.  So  Dr.  Paddock  interpreted  it.  But  where  the 
episcopate  is  concerned  no  avowals  of  unwillingness  seem  to 
avail.  The  nolo  episcopari.,  however  vehemently  uttered,  is 
interpreted  in  the  ecclesiastical  usage  as  the  language  of 
a  becoming  modesty.  In  the  long  history  of  the  episcopate 
it  has  been  taken  for  granted  that  it  would  precede  the  final 
acceptance.  There  are  well-known  instances  in  the  ancient 
church  where  the  office  was  at  last  forced  upon  unwilling 
men.  That  Dr.  Brooks  or  his  supporters  should  have  taken 
refuge  in  these  ecclesiastical  conventionalities  was  too  im- 
probable for  belief.  But  he  had  friends  in  Philadelphia  who 
would  not  take  no  for  an  answer.  As  the  time  for  the  elec- 
tion approached,  the  feeling  was  universal  among  his  friends 
that  he  must  be  the  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania.  Among  all  the 
candidates  he  was  the  one  most  earnestly,  even  passionately 
wanted.  Dr.  Brooks  himself  took  a  personal  interest  in  the 
subject  because  he  was  anxious  that  his  friend,  Dr.  Mc- 
Vickar,  of  Holy  Trinity  Church,  should  be  elected.  Against 
Dr.  McVickar,  however,  this  objection  had  been  urged,  that 
on  a  certain  occasion  he  had  gone  to  hear  the  Rev.  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  an  eminent  Unitarian  minister  of  Boston, 
and  had  even  occupied  a  place  of  prominence  upon  the  plat- 
form. Although  it  turned  out  that  this  prominent  place  had 
rather  been  forced  upon  him,  yet  the  fact  remained  that  he 
was  there,  and  it  was  regarded  by  some  as  a  damaging  inci- 
dent, unfitting  him  for  the  episcopal  office.  To  this  incident 
Dr.  Brooks  alludes  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Cooper :  — 

233  Clarendon  Stkeet,  Boston, 
Good  Friday  evening,  April  23,  1886. 

My  dear  Cooper,  — More  than  two  months  ago,  it  was  on 
the  5th  of  February,  you  wrote  me  a  beautiful  letter,  which  I 
have  been  meaning  to  answer  ever  since.  For  a  while  I  thought 
it  not  entirely  impossible  that  I  might  get  on  to  see  you  after 
Easter.  I  should  certainly  have  done  so  if  I  had  not  worked  up 
this  plan  of  going  out  to  California.  On  Thursday  after  Easter 
I  shall  start,  and  be  gone  until  almost  the  first  of  July.     How 


604  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

I  wish  you  were  going.  I  do  not  expect  to  enjoy  it  half  as  much 
as  a  trip  to  Europe,  but  I  think  that  one  ought  to  get  sight  of 
the  Pacific  some  time,  and  to  have  crossed  the  continent  before 
he  dies ;  so  I  am  going. 

And  at  last  Bishop  Stevens  has  yielded  and  wants  an  assistant. 
Do  you  remember  the  night  when  he  was  chosen  Assistant  Bishop 
more  than  twenty  years  ago  ? 

I  hope  that  McVickar  is  your  man.  I  have  heard  some  fool- 
ish talk  about  his  hearing  of  Dr.  James  Freeman  Clarke  stand- 
ing in  his  way.  Surely  that  is  not  so !  It  would  be  too  absurdly 
narrow.  A  paper  to-day  says  that  my  name  is  mentioned. 
Surely,  if  that  stupid  cause  interferes  with  McVickar,  it  ought 
to  interfere  with  me,  for  I  honor  and  admire  Freeman  Clarke, 
and  should  go  to  hear  him  whenever  I  could,  bishop  or  no 
bishop ! 

Bat,  Cooper,  if  my  name  is  really  mentioned  for  the  assistant 
bishopric,  in  caucus  or  convention,  I  authorize  you  and  charge 
you  to  withdraw  it  absolutely  by  authority  from  me.  Under  no 
circumstances  could  I  accept  the  place.  This  is  absolute,  and  I 
rely  on  you.  I  shall  be  off  somewhere  in  New  Mexico  when 
your  election  takes  place  and  shall  know  nothing  about  it;  so  I 
rely  on  you.  I  have  written  this  to  nobody  else,  and  I  rely  en- 
tirely on  you. 

To  this  letter  Mr.  Cooper  replied,  declining  to  abide  by 
his  decision.  He  took  the  liberty  of  an  old  friend,  who,  in 
an  emergency,  demands  compliance  with  his  wishes,  and 
stated  the  only  condition  on  which  he  would  allow  him  to 
say  that  he  would  not  accept :  — 

Unless  you  have  made  up  your  mind  never  to  accept  the  office 
of  Bishop,  you  must  recede  from  your  decision.  If  you  have 
fully  decided  that  you  never  will  accept  any  diocese,  why  then 
you  must  reiterate  your  orders. 

Dr.   Brooks  responded  at  once  to  this  statement  of  the 

case : — 

Chicago,  May  2,  1886. 
Dear  Cooper,  —  In  the  hurry  of  getting  ready  to  leave  Bos- 
ton the  other  day  I  sent  you  a  telegram,  which  now  I  must  sup- 
plement by  a  bit  of  a  letter.  I  do  not  want  you  to  think  that 
I  have  been  careless  about  anything  which  you  have  written.  I 
have  studied  and  felt  the  force  of  it  all.  But  it  all  comes  to 
this,  that  perhaps  McVickar  may  fail  of  an  election.  We  all  ear- 
nestly hope  that  he  will  not,   for  he  is  the  very  man  for  the 


jet.  50]    ELECTED  ASSISTANT   BISHOP    605 

place.  He  suits  it  and  deserves  it.  And  the  reason  for  the 
opposition  to  him  is  something  totally  beneath  contempt.  But 
I  cannot  feel  that  I  am  so  responsible  for  any  other  election  as 
to  be  bound,  in  order  to  prevent  it,  to  accept  an  office  for  which 
I  have  neither  taste  nor  fitness,  and  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  days 
in  the  Episcopate.  And  I  would  never  consent  to  be  elected 
without  letting  those  who  voted  for  me  clearly  know  that  I  would 
do  what  McVickar  did  whenever  I  got  the  chance,  and  that  I 
despise  them  with  all  my  heart  for  transferring  their  votes  from 
him  to  me  on  that  account.  Tell  them  that,  and  then  see 
whether  they  will  vote  for  me. 

No,  my  dear  Cooper,  it  would  be  a  delight  to  live  in  the  same 
town  with  you  again,  and  be  once  more  together  as  we  were  when 
we  were  boys,  but  I  could  not  be  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania  even  for 
that.  So  you  must  withdraw  my  name  absolutely  if  it  is  offered, 
for  under  no  circumstances  could  I  accept  the  office.  Once  more, 
I  rely  on  yon  /     All  blessings  on  you  always. 

Affectionately,  P.  B. 

Mr.  Lemuel  Coffin,  whose  friendship  with  Dr.  Brooks 
went  back  to  the  early  years  in  Philadelphia,  wrote  him 
most  earnestly,  begging  that  he  would  accept  the  office  to 
which  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  be  elected;  and  again  Dr. 
Brooks  sends  a  characteristic  letter :  — 

Chicago,  Illinois,  May  2,  1886. 
Dear  Mr.  Coffin,  —  There  was  only  time  for  a  bit  of  a  tele- 
gram from  Boston  in  answer  to  your  kind  letter.  Now  let  me 
acknowledge  it  more  fully,  and  say  how  good  I  think  you  are  to 
want  me  to  be  your  bishop  after  all  you  have  seen  of  me  for  this 
last  quarter  of  a  century.  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  think  it 
best,  partly  because  I  do  not  think  I  would  make  a  good  bishop, 
and  partly  because  I  am  so  disgusted  that  McVickar  should  be 
so  contemptibly  thrown  over  for  such  an  absurd  reason.  Why, 
my  dear  Mr.  Coffin,  I  would  go  and  hear  Freeman  Clarke  every 
week  if  I  had  a  chance.  If  even  you,  who  represent  McVickar 's 
friends,  call  that  an  "indiscreet  act,"  why,  I  think  the  diocese 

deserves  a  Mr.    X or  worse!     A  man  may  go  and   hear 

mummeries  at  St.  Clement's,  or  twaddle  at  a  hundred  churches, 
but  if  he  goes  to  hear  a  great  man  and  an  old  saint  talk  Essen- 
tial Christianity  under  another  name,  he  is  said  to  have  denied 
Christ,  and  a  thousand  other  foolish  things.  No.  Gather  around 
McVickar.  Do  not  feebly  apologize  for  him,  but  defend  and 
approve  him,  and  declare  your  manly  contempt  for  this  kind  of 


6o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1886 

opposition  to  him;  and  if  he  is  defeated  upon  this  ground,  let 
him   fall   honorably  in   the  midst  of  his   friends,    and   let   Mr. 

X have  the  diocese.      I  do  not  know  why  anybody  should 

want  it  if  that  is  the  stuff  it  is  made  of. 

I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  you  are  sick.  Do  get  well;  then, 
however  the  election  goes,  there  is  something  to  be  thankful  for. 
My  best  love  to  Mrs.  Coffin. 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  P.  B. 

Positive  as  was  the  tone  of  these  letters,  it  still  seemed  to 
the  friends  of  Dr.  Brooks  that  they  could  read  between  the 
lines  the  possibility,  even  the  probability,  of  his  accepting 
the  office  if  it  should  be  once  offered  to  him.  When  the 
convention  met  in  Philadelphia,  on  the  5th  of  May,  it  was 
well  enough  known  what  the  tenor  of  Dr.  Brooks's  letters 
had  been.  But  despite  the  discouragement  they  had  re- 
ceived, his  friends  determined  to  nominate  and  elect  him. 
He  had  not  said  in  so  many  words  that  he  would  decline  if 
he  were  elected,  and  that  constituted  a  ground  of  hope.  A 
peculiarity  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  recalled,  with  which  they 
were  all  familiar,  —  how  he  was  wont  to  recede,  under  pres- 
sure, from  a  position  which  he  had  taken.  Those  who  were 
unfavorable  to  his  election  conveyed  the  information  to  the 
convention  that  he  was  unwilling  that  his  name  should  be 
presented,  and  that  it  was  useless  to  vote  for  him.  It  is 
possible  that  this  prevented  some  from  voting  for  him  who 
otherwise  would  have  done  so.  In  a  crowded  house,  amid 
intense  excitement,  the  balloting  went  on,  and  after  eight 
ballots  had  been  taken  without  result,  on  the  ninth  ballot 
Dr.  Brooks  was  elected,  receiving  eighty-two  clerical  votes, 
—  a  majority  of  two  over  the  total  number  of  votes  cast,  and 
a  plurality  of  sixteen  over  the  vote  for  the  rival  candidate. 
The  clerical  vote  was  at  once  ratified  by  that  of  the  laity, 
the  lay  vote  standing  sixty-four  to  thirty-three. 

While  the  convention  was  in  session  Dr.  Brooks  was 
absent  from  home,  and  the  news  of  his  election  reached  him 
by  telegraph  in  the  West,  in  the  distant  territory  of  New 
Mexico.  Despite  his  previous  utterances,  and  although  his 
decision  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  he  yet  acted  honorably 


jet.  50]    ELECTED   ASSISTANT   BISHOP     607 

by  the  convention  and  by  his  friends,  reserving  his  final 
answer  until  he  should  have  taken  two  weeks  for  considera- 
tion. There  was  no  lack  of  pressure  brought  upon  him  to 
induce  him  to  accept.  Bishop  Stevens  expressed  to  him  the 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  he  felt  at  the  choice  of  the  conven- 
tion, his  earnest  desire  that  he  should  accept,  his  conviction 
that  they  would  work  in  harmony.  He  was  also  assured  by 
his  friends  that  they  had  not  been  unmindful  of  his  wishes  :  — 

I  am  sure  your  best  friends  made  every  effort  —  at  your  re- 
quest, and  not  from  their  inclination  —  to  convince  the  brethren 
of  your  unwillingness  to  fill  this  office.  But  when,  in  spite  of 
all  this,  the  meeting  to  select  a  candidate  overwhelmingly  went  for 
you,  I  for  one  said  I  cannot  stand  and  resist  what  may  be  the 
will  of  God,  and  accordingly  did  what  I  could  for  your  election. 

I  am  emboldened  [writes  another  clergyman]  by  what  I  be- 
lieve is  a  fact  which  has  several  times  appeared  in  your  life,  and 
which  convinces  me  that  you  possess  the  rare  power  of  revising 
and  changing  your  purposes,  even  when  most  deliberately  and 
conscientiously  formed,  provided  sufficient  reason  to  do  so  is 
made  evident  to  you.  You  shrank  back  from  the  first  work  you 
were  called  to  in  Philadelphia,  —  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent. 
You  shrank  back  still  more  from  the  call  to  Holy  Trinity,  and 
again  God  mercifully  led  you  to  reconsider  your  refusal.  When 
you  went  to  Boston,  it  was  only  after  you  had  said  No,  and  had 
thought  it  your  duty  not  to  go. 

While  the  question  was  pending,  it  was  intimated  that 
considerations  of  health  might  influence  the  decision.  "It 
is  known,"  said  the  correspondent  of  a  Philadelphia  paper, 
"that  the  celebrated  New  England  clergyman  is  not  in  the 
best  of  health,  and  that  he  is  now  travelling  in  the  West  for 
recuperation."  But  if  this  fear  were  an  inference  from  the 
circumstance  that  he  was  travelling,  it  had  no  foundation. 
A  clergyman,  however,  writes  to  him,  who  has  been  alarmed 
at  something  he  has  heard :  — 

In  talking  with  Mr.  ,  I  was  surprised  to  learn  that  you 

ever  felt  the  burden  of  preparation  for  the  pulpit.  From  the 
first  sermon  I  heard  from  you  in  Dr.  Vinton's  pulpit  in  1860 
(and  it  was  the  first  he  heard),  I  have  been  always  impressed 
with  the  fact  that  you  were  only  pouring  forth  from  the  abun- 


608  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

dance  and  richness  of  your  own  mind,  and  that  writing  and 
speaking  with  you  must  be  only  a  delight.  Surely,  on  the  whole, 
it  must  be  so.  You  certainly  write  with  an  ease  that  comes  to 
very  few,  and  I  believe  that  with  ripening  age  and  deepening 
experience  you  will  do  your  work  full  as  easily  and  from  a  fuller 
reservoir.  I  remember  going  home  with  Dr.  Tyng  one  Sunday 
and  his  astonishing  me  by  talking  in  the  most  depressed  way 
about  his  work,  and  his  inability  to  meet  the  demand  upon  him, 
and  how  he  longed  to  escape  from  it  at  times.  So  I  suppose  this 
is  an  experience  from  which  none  are  exempt. 

But  certainly  God  has  given  you  uncommon  gifts  and  a  very 
wide  usefulness,  which,  I  trust,  is  by  no  means  at  its  height.  I 
used^  to  know  Dr.  Bushnell,  in  days  gone  by,  but  there  came  a 
time  when  there  was  a  vastly  added  power,  a  going  down  into 
deeper  depths  and  a  going  up  unto  higher  heights,  and  a  bringing 
forth  richer  spiritual  meanings,  and  so  may  it  be  with  you. 

These  letters  of  Mr.  Brooks  which  follow  show  that,  while 
he  was  touched  by  the  action  of  his  friends  in  their  in- 
sistence that  he  should  become  the  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  was  determined  to  consider  the  question  fairly,  yet  his 
predominant  mood  before  the  election  took  place  had  not 
changed.     To  McYickar  he  writes :  — 

Santa  Fb,  New  Mexico,  May  9,  1886. 

Deah  William,  —  This  note  which  I  enclose  is  formal  enough, 
I  hope.  Now  for  a  more  familiar  talk.  How  is  it  that  you  have 
allowed  this  thing  to  come  about?  Surely  my  declaration  to 
Cooper  was  plain  and  positive  enough.  To  that  I  hold,  and 
when  your  letter  comes  I  shall  decline.  My  dear,  dear  Boy,  I 
would  do  otherwise  and  be  your  bishop  if  I  could,  but  I  cannot. 
You  will  not  think  on  such  a  question  as  this  that  I  have  been,  or 
am,  light  or  frivolous  or  prejudiced.  I  have  considered  it  ear- 
nestly and  solemnly.  I  did  not  think  that  there  was  any  chance 
of  my  being  elected,  but  I  considered  it  exactly  as  if  I  thought 
there  was,  and  conscience,  soul,  and  judgment  all  said  no!  I 
see  no  reason  whatsoever  for  a  change.  I  am  sorry  to  compel  an- 
other convention  and  election,  but  I  cannot  let  myself  take  a 
place  which  is  not  mine  simply  to  save  that  trouble.  Besides,  in 
some  sense,  it  is  the  Convention's  fault,  for  I  said,  clearly  as  I 
knew  how,  that  I  could  not  accept. 

You  will  not  think  I  am  ungrateful  to  you  all.  I  love  yon 
dearly.  That  my  old  friends  should  have  proposed  me  and 
elected  me  touches  me  more  deeply  than  I  can  say,  nor  am  I 


jet.  50]   ELECTED  ASSISTANT   BISHOP     609 

careless  of  the  pleasure  it  would  be  to  come  and  live  in  the  old 
places  with  the  old  friends  and  new.  Nor  am  I  foolishly  con- 
temptuous of  the  Episcopate.  But  simply  I  must  not.  I  am 
not  made  for  it.  I  can  do  better  work  elsewhere  than  /  could 
do  as  Bishop.  So  my  decision  is  absolute  and  final,  and  when 
your  Committee's  formal  letter  comes,  I  shall  write  and  say  that 
you  must  choose  again.  I  am  so  heartily  sorry  that  my  telegram 
to  Cooper  did  not  come  before  the  Convention  had  adjourned. 
Then  you  could  have  made  your  other  choice  at  once.  Who 
will  he  be  ?  I  have  heard,  of  course,  nothing  of  the  course  which 
the  Convention  took,  but,  oh,  that  it  could  be  you! 
I  am  just  as  much  as  before  these  things  occurred, 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  brother,  P.  B. 

This  was  the  formal  letter  of  declination  addressed  to  the 

committee   of   gentlemen   appointed   to   convey  to  him  the 

notice  of  his  election :  — 

San  Francisco,  May  22, 1886. 

My  dear  Friends,  —  I  have  received  your  letter  which  gives 
me  formal  notice  of  my  election  to  be  the  Assistant  Bishop  of 
the  Diocese  of  Pennsylvania.  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for 
the  kind  and  courteous  words  in  which  you  have  given  me  your 
message. 

The  question  which  has  been  so  unexpectedly  presented  to  me 
has  received,  I  need  not  say,  the  most  earnest  and  conscientious 
consideration  which  it  is  in  my  power  to  give;  and  I  have  not 
lightly  concluded  that  I  must  not  accept  the  high  and  interesting 
office  to  which  I  have  been  called. 

I  have  been  deeply  touched  by  the  kind  regard  of  my  brethren 
of  the  Clergy  and  Laity  who  have  elected  me.  I  have  felt  anew 
the  warm  and  grateful  interest  which  I  have  never  lost  in  a  city 
and  a  Diocese  where  many  of  the  happiest  days  of  my  ministry 
were  passed.  I  have  recognized  the  great  and  useful  work  which 
a  Bishop  of  our  Church  in  Pennsylvania  may  do  for  God  and 
man,  for  Christ  and  the  Church.  I  think  I  have  not  been  deaf 
to  any  of  the  persuasions  which  plead  for  the  acceptance  of  the 
work  to  which  you  call  me.  And  yet  I  must  ask  you  to  report 
to  the  Convention  that  I  cannot  accept  the  invitation  to  become 
the  Assistant  Bishop  of  your  Diocese.  My  present  work,  in 
which  I  have  been  long  engaged,  and  to  which  I  am  profoundly 
attached,  still,  I  believe,  welcomes  and  demands  my  care.  I 
must  not  leave  it,  not  even  for  such  a  useful  and  important  task 
as  I  should  find  in  the  service  to  which  I  am  invited.  I  know 
how  happy  that  service  would  be  made  by  the  sympathy  and  coop- 


610  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

eration  of  the  Clergy  and  Laity,  on  which  the  Bishops  of  Penn- 
sylvania may  always  count. 

There  enters  into  my  decision  that  I  must  not  come  to  you  no 
small  element  of  regret,  but  I  have  no  hesitation  or  doubt  with 
regard  to  the  result  to  which  I  have  been  led. 

It  will  always  be  a  deep  source  of  satisfaction  to  me  to  think 
of  the  honor  and  confidence  with  which  my  brethren  in  Pennsyl- 
vania have  regarded  me.  Now  and  always  I  shall  rejoice  like 
one  of  you  in  every  token  of  God's  guidance  and  goodness  to  His 
Church  among  you,  whose  loving  faithfulness  in  His  work  I  know 
so  well  and  honor  so  profoundly. 

I  am,  my  dear  friends,  with  sincere  affection  and  respect, 

Your  friend  and  brother,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar  he  writes  on  the  same  subject 
in  more  informal  fashion :  — 

San  Francisco,  May  24, 1886. 

You  are  very  good  and  kind,  the  same  true  friend  you  have 
been  now  for  so  many  years,  and  I  dare  say  you  are  wise,  too, 
and  that  your  arguments  are  good  and  sound.  I  think  they  are, 
or  at  least  would  be  for  any  one  but  me.  But  while  I  feel 
them  all,  the  balance  is  decidedly  upon  the  other  side,  and  so  I 
have  declined.  I  sent  the  letters  yesterday.  I  told  them  all 
beforehand  how  it  must  be  so,  and  said  that  if  they  chose  me  I 
could  not  accept,  — and  yet  they  chose  me.  I  do  not  complain 
of  that,  I  should  be  a  beast  if  I  did.  They  were  very  good,  and 
I  am  proud  of  their  regard.  But  this  choice  does  not  bring  any- 
thing to  change  my  previous  judgment.  It  was  by  a  bare  major- 
ity, and  after  considerable  struggle.  It  simply  presents  the 
chance  to  be  bishop  which  I  had  considered  in  its  possibility 
before,  and  yet  I  have  carefully  considered  it  again.  Along  the 
arid  plains  of  Arizona  I  turned  it  over  in  the  thing  I  call  my 
mind.  Under  the  orange  trees  of  Pasadena  I  let  it  soak  into 
me  with  the  sunshine.  Among  the  cataracts  of  Yosemite  I  lis- 
tened to  the  tempting  invitation.  But  it  was  no  good.  I  could 
not  see  myself  there  doing  those  things  that  a  Bishop  does,  and 
so  I  wrote  a  formal  letter  (true,  though,  every  word  of  it)  to 
the  committee,  and  declined;   so  now  that  is  all  over.    .    .    . 

What  a  queer  town  this  is,  and  who  would  live  here  if  he  could 
live  anywhere  else !  But  some  of  the  beauty  of  this  great  Pacific 
slope  passes  one's  dreams.  I  am  ashamed  sometimes  to  think 
what  a  Yankee  I  am,  that  all  the  beauty  of  the  rest  of  the  world 
makes  me  love  our  own  ugly  little  corner  of  it  all  the  more  in- 
tensely. 


jet.  50]    ELECTED  ASSISTANT   BISHOP    611 

Thank  you  again  for  caring  what  becomes  of  me,  and  I  am 
more  than  ever,  Affectionately  yours, 

P.  B. 

In  the  many  letters  he  received,  we  may  see  again  how 
Phillips  Brooks  had  become,  as  it  were,  the  common  prop- 
erty of  the  people.  The  case  was  laid  before  him  on  both 
sides,  as  if  he  were  incompetent  to  form  an  opinion  for 
himself.  His  life  as  a  parish  minister  was  urged  as  a  vaster 
field  of  influence  than  any  episcopate  could  ever  become. 
To  be  a  bishop  was  thought  to  mean  the  loss  or  diminution 
of  his  power  as  a  preacher  because  of  the  preoccupation  with 
ecclesiastical  affairs  and  the  detail  of  administration.  There 
does  not  seem,  however,  to  have  been  any  serious  alarm  in 
Trinity  Church,  Boston.  It  was  somehow  taken  for  granted 
that  he  would  not  think  of  leaving.  But  very  gracious  to 
him  were  the  letters  desiring  him  to  remain,  and  the  con- 
gratulations when  his  decision  was  known.  Among  the  let- 
ters, this  one  from  the  late  Bishop  Paddock  may  be  given :  — 

Ashfield,  May  15,  1886. 

My  dear  Brother,  — Yesterday  at  our  Diocesan  Missionary 
Meeting  at  Amherst  I  saw  the  announcement  that  you  had  de- 
cided to  remain  at  your  present  field  of  labor,  and  decline  the 
honorable  and  great  work  to  which  you  had  been  called  in  Penn- 
sylvania. I  rejoice  that  you  can  see  it  your  duty  to  stay  with 
us  and  still  contribute  so  greatly  as  God  has  enabled  you  to  do 
to  the  building  up  of  His  Church  in  our  Diocese  and  of  His  king- 
dom in  the  hearts  of  men.  May  He  increase  and  multiply  your 
great  influence  for  good  in  your  present  field,  and  justify,  by 
your  abiding  work  and  holy  success,  your  decision  that  your 
present  field  is  your  post  of  duty. 

I  do  not  know  what  we  should  have  done  had  you  gone  from 
us ;  and  with  many  other  considerable  cares,  I  am  truly  thankful 
that  I  have  not  got  to  work  out  that  problem. 
I  am,  dear  Brother,  yours  sincerely, 

Bestj.  S.  Paddock. 

It  was  sometimes  said  of  Mr.  Brooks  that  he  had  scant 
respect  for  the  office  of  a  bishop.  He  may  have  expressed 
himself  carelessly  on  the  subject,  and  thus  given  rise  to  the 
impression.     At  one  time,  indeed,  he  distinctly  asserted  that 


612  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

in  the  presbyterate  the  more  important  work  for  the  church 
was  to  be  done.  When  he  made  this  statement,  he  was 
speaking  at  the  grave  of  Dr.  Vinton.  It  had  been  his  de- 
sire, however,  that  Dr.  Vinton  should  become  the  Bishop 
of  Massachusetts  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Eastburn,  and  he 
urged  that  in  his  election  the  office  and  the  man  who  could 
exemplify  the  power  of  the  office  would  be  signally  brought 
together.  He  was  alive  to  the  incongruousness  of  the  situa- 
tion when  the  office  was  not  adequately  filled.  But  he  had 
nothing  of  the  Puritan  dislike  for  the  office  in  itself,  as  was 
sometimes  suspected.  Whenever  personal  criticism  went  so 
far  as  to  suggest  such  a  thought,  he  quickly  and  strongly  re- 
sented it.  The  office  was  a  high  one,  he  would  then  assert, 
and  it  only  needed  to  see  the  right  man  in  its  occupancy  to 
bring  out  its  charm  and  its  efficiency.  He  hoped  the  day 
would  come,  as  he  remarked  in  one  of  his  letters  on  the 
subject,  when  "  the  episcopate  will  stand  not  simply  for  the 
restraint  and  regulation,  but  for  the  inspiration  of  the  church." 
He  had  a  very  free  way  of  speaking  on  this  as  on  many  other 
subjects,  when  he  did  not  talk  to  be  reported,  which  gave  rise 
to  misunderstandings.  Indeed,  much  of  his  conversation,  as 
also  his  letters,  needed  to  be  interpreted  by  one  who  knew 
him. 

While  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  California,  he  was  turning  over 
the  question  in  his  mind  of  the  restriction  of  immigration  to 
this  country,  particularly  of  the  Chinese.  He  touches  upon 
the  subject  in  a  satirical  way  in  this  letter  to  Mr.  Robert 
Treat  Paine,  and  again  alludes  to  the  Pennsylvania  episco- 
pate. Probably  he  was  never  so  near  looking  upon  his  call 
to  it  with  favor,  and  like  a  lost  opportunity,  as  after  he  had 
given  his  irrevocable  decision :  — 

Monterey,  California,  June  1, 1886. 
My  dear  Bob,  —  Ever  since  I  left  Boston  I  have  had  dreams 
that  you  might  write  to  me  and  let  me  know  how  everything  was 
going  with  you  all.  Perhaps  I  may  hear  from  you  yet,  but 
meanwhile,  before  I  turn  my  face  homeward,  I  want  to  tell  you 
what  a  good  time  I  have  had,  and  how  delightfully  California  has 
treated  me.      She  has  given  her  best  weather,  and  her  most  pro- 


jet.  50]         HARVARD   UNIVERSITY  613 

fuse  flowers,  and  her  cataracts  full  of  water,  and  her  people 
pleasant  and  interesting  everywhere.  The  journey  out  here  was 
delightful,  and  the  Yosemite  was  quite  as  grand  as  fancy  had 
painted  it,  and  the  San  Franciscan,  American,  or  Chinese  was 
full  of  interest.  One  thing  all  the  Americans  say  about  the 
Chinamen,  —  that  no  more  of  them  must  come.  All  intelligent 
people  own  that  they  could  not  have  done,  and  could  not  now  do, 
without  them,  and  would  by  no  means  drive  out  those  that  are 
here;  but  they  would  let  in  no  more.  The  unanimity  on  this 
last  point  is  striking.  I  have  not  met  with  an  exception.  And 
yet  one  is  much  struck  also  by  hearing  the  best  of  qualities,  — 
thrift,  industry,  self-control,  and  patience,  —  so  often  made  a 
large  part  of  the  burden  of  indictment  against  the  poor  Mongo- 
lian. Certainly  the  look  of  Chinatown  and  its  inhabitants  is 
surprisingly  prepossessing  when  one  considers  that  he  is  seeing 
the  very  dregs  and  refuse  of  a  race.  If  these  are  the  lowest, 
the  highest  specimens  must  be  something  very  good  indeed. 

I  have  had  a  lot  of  correspondence  about  that  Episcopate  in 
Pennsylvania.  There  was  no  moment  when  I  thought  of  going. 
How  could  I,  so  long  as  I  dared  to  believe  that  you  all  still 
wanted  me  to  stay  in  Boston  ?  Will  you  tell  me,  honestly  and 
truly,  and  like  a  friend,  when  you  think  it  is  best  to  go  away? 
Until  you  do,  I  shall  rejoice  to  come  back  year  after  year  and 
do  the  best  I  can.  I  am  going  back  this  year,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  my  work  in  Trinity  is  not  yet  done. 

Among  the  motives  operating  powerfully  with  Phillips 
Brooks  to  hold  him  fast  by  his  work  in  Boston  was  his  rela- 
tion to  Harvard  University.  A  change  was  now  impend- 
ing there,  when  the  University  would  rely  upon  his  moral 
support  before  its  whole  constituency,  and  indeed  the  whole 
American  people.  Since  the  death  of  Dr.  A.  P.  Peabody,  the 
daily  and  the  Sunday  religious  services  had  been  conducted 
by  clergymen  in  some  way  connected  with  the  College, 
whether  in  its  Faculty  or  its  Board  of  Overseers.  In  1886  it 
had  been  decided,  as  the  best  way  for  ministering  to  the  reli- 
gious life  of  the  students,  to  appoint  a  Board  of  Chaplains, 
six  in  number,  representing  the  different  religious  denomi- 
nations, who  should  take  their  turns  in  conducting  prayers 
and  in  preaching  on  Sunday  in  Appleton  Chapel.  For  this 
purpose  the  ablest  preachers  in  the  country  were  to  be  se- 
lected, in  order  that  everything  might  be  done  to  give  to 


6i4  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

religion  an  important  place  in  the  University,  and  to  this 
office  Phillips  Brooks  had  been  chosen.  One  of  the  chief 
difficulties  which  confronted  the  Board  of  Chaplains  was  the 
question  of  voluntary  or  compulsory  attendance  on  prayers. 
So  long  as  those  who  officiated  had  been  officers  of  the  Uni- 
versity it  had  been  easier  to  regard  the  question  as  one  of 
college  discipline.  But  to  the  new  chaplains,  coming  into 
the  college  world  from  without,  the  question  assumed  a  new 
form.  They  were  anxious  not  to  be  hampered  in  their  work, 
lest  religion  should  be  misrepresented  and  suffer  harm.  On 
the  threshold  they  encountered  a  feeling  which  had  long  been 
growing  among  the  students,  that  it  was  not  becoming  that 
attendance  on  religious  services  should  be  compulsory. 

For  several  years  the  subject  had  been  under  discussion  by 
the  Faculty,  the  Overseers,  and  the  Corporation.  The  senti- 
ment among  the  officers  of  the  University  was  for  the  most 
part  averse  to  the  change.  President  Eliot,  Dr.  A.  P. 
Peabody,  and  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  were  among  those 
who  deprecated  the  growing  opinion  among  the  students,  and 
indeed  were  strongly  averse  to  the  abandonment  of  a  require- 
ment which  went  back  in  its  origin  to  the  foundation  of  Har- 
vard College,  and  was  also  established  in  other  colleges  and 
institutions  of  learning,  not  only  in  this  country,  but  in  Eng- 
land. Phillips  Brooks  had  also  been  among  the  firmest 
opponents,  more  strenuous  even  than  many  in  resisting  the 
change.  A  petition  of  the  students  in  1885  had  been  referred 
to  a  committee  of  three,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  to  give 
the  question  thorough  consideration,  and  return  a  final  and 
exhaustive  answer  to  the  students'  request.  That  the  ques- 
tion was  at  last  under  serious  consideration  was  widely  known, 
and  not  only  Harvard,  but  the  other  colleges  were  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  decision.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  many  when 
the  answer  came,  that  Harvard  remained  true  to  the  ancient 
ways  of  the  fathers.  Thus  the  president  of  an  important 
college  wrote  to  Dr.  Brooks :  — 

Like  everybody  else  I  have  heard  speak  of  it  I  am  very  much 
pleased  by  your  report  to  the  Board  of  Overseers  in  regard  to 
college  prayers.      The  abandonment  of  a  custom  so  salutary  and 


jet.  50]        HARVARD   UNIVERSITY  615 

so  characteristic,  as  well  as  time-honored,  would  be  fraught  with 
most  serious  consequences  to  the  whole  fabric  of  our  civilization. 

A  brief  summary  of  this  report  of  the  committee  to  the 
Overseers  will  bring  out  some  interesting  features  of  the 
situation.  The  students  who  petitioned  did  not,  on  the 
whole,  rest  their  petition  on  the  strongest  ground.  They 
asked  that  attendance  at  prayers  be  made  voluntary  for  all 
over  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  optional  according  to  the 
wishes  of  parents  or  guardians  for  all  under  that  age;  and 
they  based  their  request  upon  the  assumption  that  compul- 
sory attendance  is  a  "religious  test"  and  "therefore  repug- 
nant," and  further  that  "it  was  a  remnant  of  ancient  en- 
croachments upon  civil  liberty,  and  therefore  tyrannical  and 
unjust."  To  this  petition  the  committee  replied  that  prayers 
were  upon  the  same  footing  as  other  requisitions  made  upon 
students  by  which  they  resign  their  liberty  to  spend  their 
time  as  they  please  and  conform  in  manners  and  habits  to 
what  the  college  faculty  regard  as  decent  and  proper. 
There  was  no  tyranny  more  than  in  daily  attendance  upon 
recitations  and  lectures.  It  was  not  a  religious  test,  for 
those  were  excused  from  attendance  who  could  plead  con- 
scientious religious  scruples.  There  was  no  hardship,  for 
those  who  lived  at  a  distance  from  the  chapel  were  excused, 
and  those  also  who  urged  the  plea  of  ill  health ;  and  further, 
the  religious  service  was  a  brief  one  and  attractive  in  its 
character,  as  shown  in  the  reverent  bearing  of  the  students. 

But  the  two  most  significant  features  in  the  committee's 
report  were,  first,  the  assumption  that  if  attendance  on 
prayers  were  not  compulsory,  the  only  alternative  was  the 
abandonment  or  discontinuance  of  the  daily  religious  service 
altogether.  That  this  would  be  the  result  was  argued  from 
the  attendance  at  the  English  cathedral  services,  which  was 
pitiably  small  under  the  most  favorable  auspices.  The  other 
assumption  was  that  the  large  number  of  names  appended  to 
the  students'  petition  carried  no  weight,  for  it  was  "well 
known  how  easily  such  signatures  are  obtained  not  only  in 
college,  but  in  the  outer  world."  This  petition,  too,  had  not 
been  left  in  some  designated  place,  where  those  who  wished 


616  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1886 

might  sign  it,  but  it  had  been  carried  from  room  to  room 
with  great  urgency.  These  were  the  main  points  in  the  re- 
port. But  there  was  one  other  reason  given  for  denying  the 
petition,  although  it  was  distinctly  said  the  least  of  the  argu- 
ments in  behalf  of  the  existing  system:  "Harvard  College 
-can  ill  afford  the  loss  of  reputation  which  would  ensue  on  its 
being  the  first  of  all  literary  institutions  in  New  England  to 
abandon  religious  observances." 

To  those  who  knew  Phillips  Brooks  it  must  seem  strange 
that  he  should  have  been  willing  to  append  his  name  to  this 
report.  But  he  was  a  conservative  in  temperament ;  nor  had 
he  as  yet  looked  deeply  into  the  question.  He  probably 
acquiesced  out  of  force  of  habit  in  the  assumption  that  if 
students  were  not  required  to  go  to  prayers  they  would  not 
go.  Hardly,  however,  had  he  signed  the  report  than  his 
attention  began  to  go  beneath  the  surface  of  both  the  petition 
and  its  answer.  It  might  be  possible  that  the  students  had 
better  reasons  for  their  request  than  they  alleged.  It  was 
possible  that  they  would  continue  their  attendance,  even  if 
it  were  not  required.  If  religion  was  natural  for  man  and 
made  its  appeal  to  what  was  genuinely  human,  it  might  be 
properly  thrown  on  its  own  native  resources  without  being 
bolstered  up  by  an  extraneous  authority.  It  indicated  lack 
of  faith  in  God  and  man  to  assume  any  other  ground.  It 
pained  him  to  call  in  question  the  sincerity  or  earnestness 
of  those  who  had  signed  the  petition.  The  thing  to  do  was 
to  find  out  whether  the  sentiment  of  the  students  as  a  whole 
was  averse  to  compulsory  prayers,  and  then  to  trust  and  to 
honor  their  feeling  in  the  matter  as  having  some  divine  sig- 
nificance ;  to  have  faith  in  religion  also  that  its  ancient  power 
was  not  abated.  It  would  indeed  require  a  greater  expendi- 
ture of  spiritual  force  on  the  part  of  those  who  were  to  offi- 
ciate in  the  religious  offices  of  the  College,  but  that  must  be 
taken  for  granted. 

In  February,  1886,  the  students  renewed  their  petition. 
In  May  the  first  Board  of  Chaplains  was  appointed,  and  in 
June  Phillips  Brooks,  in  his  place  as  one  of  the  Board 
of  Overseers,  stood  up  and  earnestly  advocated  the  abolition 


mt.  50]       HARVARD  UNIVERSITY  617 

of  compulsory  attendance  on  prayers,  declaring  further  his 
unwillingness  to  officiate  as  a  chaplain  of  the  College  unless 
the  change  were  conceded.  He  did  not  argue  for  the  change 
as  a  concession  merely  to  the  expressed  wishes  of  the  stu- 
dents, but  as  in  itself  the  ideal  arrangement,  to  be  adopted 
because  of  its  inherent  fitness  and  propriety.  There  was 
surprise  and  even  astonishment  at  the  complete  reversal  of 
his  attitude.  But  his  influence  was  great ;  he  was  willing  to 
take  the  responsibility ;  it  could  not  hurt  the  College  if  it  was 
known  that  he  approved  the  change,  and  his  name,  indeed, 
would  be  a  guarantee  of  the  success  of  the  voluntary  system; 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do  after  his  bold  declaration  of  his 
faith  in  the  new  method.  In  taking  this  position  Mr.  Brooks 
had  the  sympathy  and  support  of  the  other  chaplains  associ- 
ated with  him.  Their  first  joint  act  after  their  appointment 
was  to  recommend  that  attendance  on  prayers  be  voluntary, 
and  their  recommendation  was  approved  by  the  Corporation 
and  the  Overseers.  In  the  fall  of  1886  the  new  arrange- 
ment went  into  operation. 

In  the  discussion  of  the  order  of  service  to  be  used  at 
morning  prayers,  Mr.  Brooks  took  part.  With  him  origi- 
nated the  brief  address  of  three  minutes.  At  the  request  of 
the  students  he  said  a  few  words  before  closing  each  service, 
and  from  this  the  custom  grew  until  it  became  the  general 
rule.  It  imposed  a  harder  task  upon  the  chaplains,  but  it 
tended  to  vitalize  the  occasion,  and  to  prevent  it  from  becom- 
ing a  religious  formality.  That  the  new  plan  of  voluntary 
prayers  must  be  regarded  as  an  experiment  until  it  had  been 
demonstrated  a  success  was  evident  to  Mr.  Brooks,  and  in 
order  that  it  might  be  made  successful  he  was  anxious  that 
everything  should  be  done  to  make  the  new  arrangement 
attractive  and  impressive.  In  his  letters  to  Kev.  F.  G. 
Peabody,  who  had  been  elected  to  the  Plummer  Professor- 
ship, and  was  president  of  the  Board  of  Chaplains,  he  shows 
how  deep  his  interest  was :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  June  29, 1886. 
Dear  Mb.  Peabody,  — ...   I  feel  very  strongly,  as  I  think 
about  it,  that  the  meeting  of  October  3  should  be  devoted  to  a 


618  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

full  and  comprehensive  address  from  you,  for  which  you  should 
take  plenty  of  time,  and  in  which  you  should  lay  before  the  Col- 
lege and  the  world  the  complete  meaning  of  the  new  movement. 
If  it  is  thought  well  for  one  of  the  preachers  to  say  a  few  words 
also,  well  and  good ;  but  the  evening  should  be  yours. 

Let  us  not  fail  to  get  the  great  musician.     And  we  must  not  be 
cramped  for  money.     And  we  must  be  very  confident  in  hope. 
Ever  sincerely  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  August  18,  1886. 
My  dear  Mr.  Peabody,  —  ...  I  hope' that  on  that  day  the 
service  may  be  as  rich  and  strong  as  it  is  possible  to  make  it.  I 
have  begged  the  President  that  we  may  not  be  stinted  in  the 
matter  of  money.  At  any  rate,  for  those  two  days,  let  there  be 
no  economy.  Get  the  best  musical  material  that  can  be  had. 
Put  our  musical  director  on  his  mettle  regardless  of  expense,  and 
let  us  see  what  he  can  do,  only  let  him  know  that  it  is  excellence 
of  quality  and  not  simply  abundance  of  quantity  that  we  want. 
Ever  yours  most  sincerely,  Phillips  Brooks. 

It  may  be  added  here  that  doubts  and  misgivings  quickly 
vanished  when  the  voluntary  arrangement  had  been  put  to 
actual  trial.  The  attendance  at  prayers  was  large  and  the 
service  inspiring.  Mr.  Brooks  took  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber, and  every  morning  after  service  was  over  went  to  the 
chaplain's  rooms  at  Wadsworth  House,  where  the  students 
came  to  see  him  in  increasing  numbers.  After  his  month 
was  over,  he  wrote  again  to  Professor  Peabody :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  4,  1886. 
Dear  Mr.  Peabody,  — ...  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I 
have  enjoyed  this  last  busy  month,  or  how  deeply  interested  I 
am  in  the  world  over  which  you  preside.  Pray  use  me  for  it  in 
any  way,  at  any  time,  and  do  not  let  even  Cambridge  quench 
your  hope. 

After  returning  from  his  trip  to  the  West,  Mr.  Brooks 
took  up  his  residence  at  North  Andover  for  the  summer, 
where,  as  he  writes  to  Strong,  "there  is  peace  and  quiet  to 
a  terrible  degree.  I  go  down  to  Boston  on  Sundays  and 
wake  myself  up  with  preaching  to  a  miscellaneous  summer 
congregation,  and  then  go  back  to  my  bucolic  cares."  He 
tried  to  get  his  three  old  friends,  Cooper  and  Kichards  and 
Strong,  to  meet  together  with  him  there,  and  "talk  over  the 


jet.  50]  CORRESPONDENCE  619 

universe,"  but  the  scheme  was  not  realized.     To  Mr.  Cooper 
he  writes :  — 

July  3, 1886. 

Another  journey  is  finished  without  accident.  I  have  seen  the 
Pacific,  and  now  here  I  am,  thankful  and  peaceful  among  my  acres 
and  bucolic  cares  at  North  Andover.  The  grass  is  to  be  sold 
this  afternoon  at  public  auction  out  behind  the  barn,  and  that 
makes  me  a  little  anxious  and  restless  this  morning.  Except  for 
that,  I  am  very  well  and  happy,  and  hope  these  few  lines  will 
find  you  the  same. 

And  you  are  coming  to  George  Strong's  week  after  next!  I 
am  sure  you  will  not  pass  me  by,  but  will  look  in  and  see  my 
farming.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  to  do.  You  shall  not 
be  bothered  to  go  and  see  the  cattle,  for  there  are  none ;  nor  the 
kitchen  garden,  for  there  isn't  any;  nor  even  the  chickens,  for 
there  is  only  one  poor  lone  rooster,  which  the  man  who  kept  the 
place  last  winter  couldn't  catch,  but  left  behind  him  when  he 
went  away.  No,  you  shall  sit  on  the  piazza  and  smoke,  and  sit 
in  the  study  and  smoke,  and  sit  under  the  trees  and  smoke,  and 
we  will  talk  Pennsylvania  and  California,  and  you  shall  tell  me 
all  about  the  queer,  queer  things  which  have  gone  on  in  Philadel- 
phia since  the  first  of  May.  Now  write  a  beautiful  letter  at 
once  and  say  when  I  may  meet  you  and  Mrs.  Cooper  in  Boston, 
and  bring  you  here  for  as  many  days  and  nights  as  you  will  stay. 
I  am  sure  that  you  will  not  disappoint  your  ancient  friend. 

His  chief  recreation  at  North  Andover  was  in  driving  a 
quiet  horse  through  Boxford  and  other  adjacent  towns,  when 
he  dressed  in  a  most  unclerical  garb  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it 
as  if  it  were  the  proper  thing  to  enjoy.  But  in  his  manner 
he  had  grown  somewhat  more  quiet  and  subdued.  In  the 
course  of  these  excursions  he  came  to  the  ancient  town  of 
Rowley,  where  the  first  Samuel  Phillips,  son  of  the  George 
Phillips  who  was  the  founder  of  the  family,  had  spent  his 
long  life.  A  call  at  the  parsonage  for  the  minister,  who 
could  have  told  him  much  that  he  wanted  to  know,  was  fruit- 
less. It  seemed  that  in  the  quiet  of  those  peaceful  after- 
noons, where  it  was  like  a  perpetual  Sabbath,  the  minister 
had  the  custom  of  retiring  to  the  prophet's  little  chamber  on 
the  wall,  and  was  fast  asleep  while  his  distinguished  visitor 
was  knocking  at  the  door.     But  there  was  a  monument  to  be 


620  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

seen,  erected  to  the  memory  of  this  distant  ancestor.  The 
only  relic  which  survived  of  him  in  the  town  was  a  fragment 
of  a  sermon  on  the  "sin  of  wearing  long  hair."  But  there 
were  traditions  of  him  remaining  to  the  effect  that  "he  com- 
bined culture  of  mind,  tenderness  and  sympathy  of  heart,  and 
well-balanced  Christian  living." 

The  days  at  North  Andover  were  marked  by  another  event, 
when  on  July  21  he  went  to  Framingham  and  read  an  essay 
before  the  Chautauqua  Assembly  on  Literature  and  Life. 
It  was  published  in  pamphlet  form  and  has  since  been  incor- 
porated in  his  "Essays  and  Addresses."  Among  the  writ- 
ings of  Phillips  Brooks,  this  essay  holds  an  important  place, 
valuable  in  itself  for  its  profound  and  beautiful  suggestions, 
most  admirable  as  an  introduction  to  the  study  of  literature; 
but  also  important  because  it  gives  so  clearly  the  method  of 
his  life  work,  revealing  the  springs  of  his  enthusiasm  and 
the  sources  of  his  perpetual  freshness  and  power.  His  theme 
is  that  "  life  underlies  literature  and  is  the  greater  thing." 
"  It  is  possible  to  treat  almost  any  book  so  that  the  literary 
quality  will  disappear  and  the  pulsations  of  the  life  beneath 
be  felt."     "Men  must  live  before  they  can  make  literature." 

Very  impressive  and  mysterious  and  beautiful  are  these  noble 
years  in  the  life  of  a  people  or  a  man,  which  are  so  full  of  living 
that  they  had  no  time  or  thought  for  writing. 

How  many  of  us  can  remember  it  in  our  own  lives,  the  time 
when  life  claimed  utterance  and  clumsily,  shamefacedly,  secretly, 
but  with  a  dim  sense  of  crossing  a  line  and  entering  a  new  con- 
dition, we  wrote  something,  —  a  poem,  an  essay,  a  story,  —  some- 
thing which  gave  literary  expression  to  life. 

He  was  asking  himself  why  it  was  that  in  the  last  years  of 
the  nineteenth  century  there  seemed  to  be  a  falling  away  in 
the  quality  of  high  literature.  He  thinks  that  the  relations 
between  life  and  literature  are  very  delicate  and  easily  dis- 
turbed. 

Life  may  become  too  strong  for  literature.  There  is  question 
whether  it  be  not  so  to-day,  when  the  world  is  intensely  and 
vehemently  alive.  It  may  be  that  former  methods  and  standards 
are  not  sufficient  for  the  expression  of  the  growing  life,  its  new 


mt.  50]  SERMONS  621 

activities,  its  unexpected  energies,  its  feverish  problems.  If  the 
social  perplexities  of  the  age  could  be  set  forth  in  a  more  com- 
petent literature,  catching  the  true  meaning  of  the  situation,  then 
the  pent-up  torrent  of  life  would  find  easier  vent  and  open  into 
broader,  juster,  and  more  charitable  thought.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances a  man  must  believe  in  the  future  more  than  he  rever- 
ences the  past. 

In  the  retirement  of  North  Andover  Mr.  Brooks  was 
thinking  much  of  Richardson,  whose  death  had  moved  him 
deeply.  He  speaks  of  him  in  a  letter:  "Richardson  is  off 
alone  on  his  long  journey.  I  wonder  how  long  it  is."  In 
an  article  for  the  "Harvard  Monthly"  (October,  1886),  he 
paid  a  tribute  to  his  character  and  genius.  The  qualities 
which  he  discerned  and  selected  for  praise  are  those  which 
the  two  men  held  in  common,  and  which  served  to  draw  them 
together,  —  the  instinctive  and  spontaneous  character  of  his 
genius,  expressing  great  ideas,  based  upon  thorough  study, 
and  yet  of  which  he  could  give  no  account  as  to  how  they 
came  to  him,  "not  a  man  of  theories,"  but  "his  life  passed 
into  his  buildings  by  ways  too  subtle  even  for  himself  to 
understand."  "He  grew  simpler  as  he  grew  older." 
"  Whoever  came  in  contact  with  his  work  felt  that  the  wind 
blew  out  of  an  elemental  simplicity,  out  of  the  primitive  life 
and  qualities  of  man." 

The  loss  which  his  death  brought  to  his  friends  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  describe.  It  is  a  change  in  all  their  life.  When  some 
men  die  it  is  as  if  you  had  lost  your  penknife,  and  were  subject 
to  perpetual  inconvenience  until  you  could  get  another.  Other 
men's  going  is  like  the  vanishing  of  a  great  mountain  from  the 
landscape,  and  the  outlook  of  life  is  changed  forever. 

His  life  was  like  a  great  picture  full  of  glowing  color.  The 
canvas  on  which  it  was  painted  was  immense.  It  lighted  all  the 
room  in  which  it  hung.  It  warmed  the  chilliest  air.  It  made, 
and  it  will  long  make,  life  broader,  work  easier,  and  simple 
strength  and  courage  dearer  to  many  men.1 

Mr.  Brooks  was  further  occupied  during  the  summer  with 
the  preparation  for  the  press  of  his  fourth  volume  of  ser- 
mons, which  appeared  in  the  fall  with  the  title  "  Twenty  Ser- 

1  Essays  and  Addresses,  p.  489. 


622  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

mons,"  and  was  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  his  brother 
Frederick.  The  book  has  a  distinct  character  from  his  other 
volumes  of  sermons,  —  his  message  to  the  hour,  stamped 
with  his  imprimatur,  and  reflecting,  also,  the  changes  in  his 
inner  life  and  experience.  The  first  sermon,  with  which  the 
volume  opens,  entitled  "The  Mother's  Wonder,"  is  an  epit- 
ome of  his  own  spiritual  history.  It  was  written  at  the 
time  when  his  father's  health  was  declining,  when  he  no 
longer  attempted  to  exercise  any  semblance  of  a  sway  over 
his  son's  career.  It  recalls  the  moment  in  Philadelphia 
when  the  son  was  throwing  himself  into  social  and  political 
reforms,  advocating  them  with  vehement  eloquence  from  the 
pulpit,  and  the  father's  earnest  remonstrance  against  his 
course.  He  had  believed  that  he  was  right  in  following 
his  own  judgment,  despite  his  father's  protest.  He  was 
recalling  his  own  reticence  and  invincible  reserve  in  those 
mysterious  years  when  he  was  trying  to  read  the  call  of 
God  to  his  soul,  and  his  mother  stood  by  perplexed,  but 
silent  and  submissive,  while  he  made  no  sign.  He  had 
changed  much  since  those  years  went  by,  but  they  were  up- 
permost in  his  consciousness  still.  He  is  sending  now,  as 
it  were,  his  voice  beyond  the  darkness  to  the  father  and 
mother  in  paradise,  his  apology  for  that  which,  in  itself,  was 
right  or  inevitable,  yet  had  none  the  less  given  pain.  The 
mother  of  Christ  remonstrating  with  her  son,  "Why  hast 
thou  thus  dealt  with  us?"  is  a  type  and  illustration  of  that 
"which  is  recurring  in  every  household  as  a  boy  claims  for 
the  first  time  his  own  life."  He  strikes  the  principle  rest- 
ing beneath  the  familiar  experience,  how  people  are  in  dan- 
ger of  realizing  responsibility  more  than  they  realize  God. 
He  takes  up  the  subject  of  reform  and  reformers,  again,  and 
in  so  doing  shows  that  his  father's  protest  had  done  its  work 
and  had  mingled  with  his  own  judgment  till  it  had  modified 
his  life  method.  The  subject  enlarges  under  his  treatment 
till  it  becomes  a  discussion  of  God's  part  in  the  control  of 
human  affairs  and  in  the  development  of  every  individual 
career.  But  this  larger  conviction  has  its  roots  in  his  expe- 
rience as  a  boy  in  the  intimate  life  of  the  human  household. 


mt.  50]  SERMONS  623 

Many  of  the  sermons  in  this  volume  are  noteworthy  not 
only  as  great  pictures  on  the  canvas  of  life,  but  because  they 
reveal  the  man  behind  the  sermon.  In  "Visions  and  Tasks," 
already  mentioned,  he  pays  his  tribute  to  his  mother,  and  to 
every  mother  who  mediates  between  the  vision  and  the  child 
whom  she  loves  and  thus  brings  the  highest  truth  to  the 
childish  capacity.  "It  is  a  truth  which  we  have  all  learned 
from  some  great  experience  through  which  we  have  been  led, 
that  any  great  experience,  seriously  and  greatly  met  and 
passed  through,  makes  the  man  who  has  passed  through  it 
always  afterward  a  purer  medium  through  which  the  highest 
truth  may  shine  on  other  men." 

In  the  "Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple,"  a  sermon  first 
preached  in  Philadelphia,  and  afterwards  rewritten, —  a  fa- 
vorite sermon  and  repeated  many  times,  —  he  has  described 
the  religion  of  childhood,  how  it  differs  from  the  religion  of  the 
mature  man,  how  it  is  to  be  taught  and  cultivated  in  order 
to  its  later  healthy  expansion.  Upon  this  subject  he  could 
speak  with  singular  force  and  wisdom,  for  he  had  the  gift 
of  knowing  how  to  enter  into  a  child's  heart  and  to  dwell 
there  in  joy  and  freedom. 

The  text  "Make  the  men  sit  down"  was  suggestive  to  his 
mind  of  the  contemplative  restful  aspects  of  religion,  as 
compared  with  its  incessant  call  to  activity.  He  was  think- 
ing of  his  experience  in  India  and  the  wide  contrast  between 
Oriental  and  Occidental  types  of  religion.  As  he  begins  his 
sermon,  he  takes  the  congregation  into  his  confidence,  by 
telling  them  how  often  he  has  found  that  the  wrong  people 
take  the  wrong  sermon  to  themselves.  As  he  is  proposing 
to  speak  of  the  peace  and  repose  which  religion  may  bring, 
he  fears  it  will  not  appeal  to  those  who  are  always  rushing 
into  more  and  more  wild  and  superficial  action,  to  those  who 
really  need  meditation  and  quiet  self-study,  but  to  those 
already  resting  in  quiescent  calm,  and  need  to  be  roused  to 
action.  This  is  one  of  the  difficulties  of  the  pulpit  which  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  overcome. 

He  had  preached  a  sermon,  as  most  preachers  have  done, 
on   "The   Man  with  One  Talent,"  published  in  an  earlier 


624  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

volume,  but  it  required  a  certain  degree  of  boldness  and 
originality  to  speak  on  the  place  in  the  world  of  "  The  Man 
with  Two  Talents."  His  object  was  to  show  how  the  aver- 
age man  may  become  great  and  almost  infinitely  multiply 
his  gifts  by  living  in  the  consciousness  of  God.  The  power 
of  the  God  consciousness  is  also  brought  out  in  one  of  its 
most  profound  and  far-reaching  aspects  in  the  sermon  on 
"  Standing  before  God,"  where  he  meets  the  difficulty  which 
the  mind  encounters  in  thinking  of  immortality,  because  of 
the  countless  millions  of  human  souls  who  have  lived  or  are 
yet  to  live  on  the  earth,  till  the  insignificance  of  any  one 
soul  in  the  infinite  throng  overcomes  the  conviction  of  its 
priceless  value.  "The  Knowledge  of  God"  is  the  title  of 
another  sermon,  where  he  makes  his  plea  against  what  is 
called  Agnosticism.  His  chief  argument  is  built  upon  the 
fact  of  Christ's  unconquerable  conviction  as  in  the  words, 
"As  the  Father  knoweth  me,  even  so  know  I  the  Father:  " — 

Surely  it  must  forever  stand  as  a  most  impressive  and  signifi- 
cant fact,  a  fact  that  no  man  who  is  trying  to  estimate  the  worth 
and  strength  of  spiritual  things  can  leave  out  of  his  account,  that 
the  noblest  and  most  perfect  spiritual  being  whom  this  world  has 
ever  seen,  the  being  whom  the  world  with  most  amazing  unanim- 
ity owns  for  its  spiritual  pattern  and  leader,  was  sure  of  God. 
I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  immense,  the  literally  unmeasurable 
meaning  and  value  of  that  fact. 

There  are  sermons  here  which  are  the  outcome  of  that 
consciousness  of  humanity  in  which  he  also  lived.  The 
sense  of  sin,  the  evil  in  life,  the  conception  of  life  as  a  tragic 
struggle  between  hostile  forces  where  God  and  man  seem 
to  be  arrayed  against  each  other,  the  awful  mystery  of  the 
conflict  and  its  appalling  proportions,  —  these  things  are 
brought  out  in  sermons,  still  vividly  remembered  by  those 
who  heard  them,  as  revealing  the  preacher's  power.  In  a 
sermon  entitled  "Destruction  and  Fulfilment,"  he  traces  the 
beneficent  evidence  of  human  progress.  When  we  read  the 
sermon  on  Going  up  to  Jerusalem,  it  seems  to  have  a  pro- 
phetic character,  as  though  the  preacher,  in  urging  upon  his 
hearers  to  gain  some   clearer  perception  of  the  appointed 


mt.  50]    DOCTRINE  OF  THE  CHURCH      625 

result  toward  which  the  steady  tendency  of  their  lives  was 
growing,  was  thinking  and  speaking  of  himself.  Life  was 
changing  for  him  now  to  its  last  appointed  phase.  From 
this  time  his  own  face  was  set,  like  that  of  the  Master  before 
him,  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem ;  and  when  friends  remonstrated 
and  would  fain  hold  him  back,  he  went  steadily  forward,  and 
as  they  looked  after  him  in  his  stride  toward  the  end,  they 
were  amazed.  "Do  not  pray  for  easy  lives.  Do  not  pray 
for  tasks  equal  to  your  powers.  Pray  for  powers  equal  to 
your  tasks." 

I  bid  you  clearly  know  that  if  the  life  which  you  have  chosen 
to  be  your  life  is  really  worthy  of  you,  it  involves  self-sacrifice 
and  pain.  If  your  Jerusalem  really  is  your  sacred  city,  there  is 
certainly  a  cross  in  it.  What  then  ?  Shall  you  flinch  and  draw 
back?  Shall  you  ask  for  yourself  another  life?  Oh,  no,  not 
another  life,  but  another  self.  Ask  to  be  born  again.  Ask  God 
to  fill  you  with  Himself,  and  then  calmly  look  up  and  go  on. 
Go  up  to  Jerusalem  expecting  all  things  that  are  written  concern- 
ing you  to  be  fulfilled.  Disappointment,  mortification,  miscon- 
ception, enmity,  pain,  death,  these  may  come  to  you,  but  if  they 
come  to  you  in  doing  your  duty  it  is  all  right. 

There  remains  to  be  mentioned  one  other  sermon  in  this 
volume  to  which  a  special  interest  and  importance  must  be 
attached.  Its  subject  is  the  "Church  of  the  Living  God." 
It  was  preached  in  1885,  on  the  third  Sunday  in  Advent, 
when  it  was  the  custom  at  Trinity  Church  to  take  up  the 
annual  collection  for  domestic  missions.  In  this  sermon  Mr. 
Brooks  defined  his  position  on  the  questions  then  agitating 
the  Episcopal  Church.  In  the  first  part  of  the  sermon  he 
gives  his  definition  of  the  Church  Universal :  — 

The  Christian  church  is  the  body  of  redeemed  humanity.  It 
is  man  in  his  deepest  interests,  in  his  spiritual  possibilities.  It 
is  the  under  life,  the  sacred,  the  profounder  life  of  man,  his 
regeneration.  Every  human  being  in  very  virtue  of  birth  into 
the  redeemed  world  is  a  potential  member  of  the  Christian 
church.      His  baptism  claims  and  asserts  his  membership.    .    .    . 

I  cannot  tell  you,  my  dear  friends,  how  strongly  this  view 
takes  possession  of  me  the  longer  that  I  live.  I  cannot  think, 
I  will  not  think,  about  the  Christian  church  as  if  it  were  a  selec- 
tion out  of  humanity.     In  its  idea  it  is  humanity. 

vol.  n 


626  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1886 

He  defends  the  custom  of  baptizing  the  dying  child,  which 
sometimes  has  seemed  like  the  "blankest  superstition." 
"Will  the  ceremony  do  any  good? "  "Will  the  child  be  any 
the  better  for  this  hurried  incantation?  "     He  answers:  — 

Baptism  is  the  solemn,  grateful,  tender  recognition  of  that 
infant's  life  on  earth,  of  the  deep  meaning  of  his  humanity.  It 
is  the  human  race  in  its  profoundest  self-consciousness  welcoming 
this  new  member  to  its  multitude.  Only  for  a  few  moments  does 
he  tarry  in  this  condition  of  humanity.  His  life  touches  the 
earth  only  to  leave  it;  but  in  those  few  moments  of  his  tarrying, 
humanity  lifts  up  its  hand  and  claims  it,  .  .  .  appropriates  for 
it  that  redemption  of  Christ  which  revealed  man's  belonging  to 
God,  declares  it  a  member  of  that  Church  which  is  simply  hu- 
manity belonging  to  God,  the  divine  conception  of  humanity,  her 
own  realization  of  herself  as  it  belongs  to  God. 

He  exclaims  what  a  world  this  would  be  if  only  baptism 
were  universal,  with  this  understanding  of  its  significance. 
He  turns  to  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  "as  the 
rallying  place  for  all  the  good  activity  and  worthy  hopes  of 
man.  It  is  in  the  power  of  this  great  Christian  sacrament, 
this  great  human  sacrament,  to  become  that  rallying  place." 
It  would  be  the  evidence  of  the  world's  transformation  if 
to  this  great  "sacrament  of  man  "  all  classes  of  people  —  the 
mystic,  the  seeker  after  truth,  the  soldier,  the  student,  the 
schoolboy,  the  legislator,  the  inventor,  men,  women,  and 
children  —  were  to  come,  meeting  in  a  great  host  at  the  table 
of  the  Lord,  owning  themselves  His  children,  claiming  for 
themselves  His  strength,  and  thence  go  forth  to  their  work. 
"The  communion  service  would  lift  up  its  voice  and  sing 
itself  in  triumph,  the  great  anthem  of  dedicated  human  life." 

He  speaks  next  of  the  Christian  ministry.  The  old  sacer- 
dotal idea  has  not  died  away.  Sometimes  it  is  distinctly 
proclaimed  and  taught.  But  the  remedy  does  not  lie  in  any 
negation,  — 

not  to  deny  the  priesthood  of  the  clergy,  but  to  assert  the  priest- 
hood of  all  men.  We  can  have  no  hope,  I  believe,  of  the  de- 
struction of  the  spirit  of  hierarchy  by  direct  attack.  It  may  be 
smitten  down  a  thousand  times.  A  thousand  times  it  will  rise 
again.     Only  when   all  men  become  full   of    the   sense  of    the 


jet.  50]    DOCTRINE  OF  THE  CHURCH       627 

sacredness  of  their  own  life  will  the  assumption  of  supreme  cleri- 
cal sacredness  find  itself  overwhelmed  with  the  great  rising  tide. 

He  reverts  to  a  subject  already  mentioned,  but  he  was  now 
speaking  his  mind  fully  and  definitely  on  the  debated  opin- 
ions of  the  hour,  and  he  was  determined  to  be  as  complete  in 
his  utterance  as  he  was  clear. 

Why  is  it  that  the  Church  has  magnified  doctrine  overmuch 
and  throned  it  where  it  does  not  belong?  It  is  because  the 
Church  has  not  cared  enough  for  life.  She  has  not  overvalued 
doctrine :  she  has  undervalued  life.  .  .  .  When  she  thinks  of 
herself  as  the  true  inspirer  and  purifier  of  all  the  life  of  man, 
then  she  will  —  what?  Not  cast  away  her  doctrines,  as  many 
of  her  impetuous  advisers  bid  her  do.  She  will  see  their  value, 
their  precious  value,  as  she  has  never  seen  it  yet;  but  she  will 
hold  them  always  as  the  means  of  life. 

The  decrying  of  dogma  in  the  interest  of  life,  of  creed  in  the 
interest  of  conduct,  is  very  natural,  but  very  superficial.  It  is 
superficial  because,  if  it  succeeded,  it  would  make  life  and  con- 
duct blind  and  weak.  But  it  is  natural  because  it  is  the  crude, 
healthy  outburst  of  human  protest  against  the  value  of  dogma  for 
its  own  sake,  of  which  the  Church  has  always  been  too  full.  Let 
us  not  join  in  it.  .  .  .  Let  us  do  all  we  can  to  build  up  life 
about  dogma,  and  demand  of  dogma  that  service  which  it  is  the 
real  joy  of  its  heart  to  render  to  life.  I  will  not  hear  men 
claim  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  has  no  help  or  inspiration 
to  give  to  the  merchant  or  the  statesman;  .  .  .  that  it  means 
nothing  to  the  scholar  or  the  bricklayer  whether  he  believes  or 
disbelieves  in  the  Atonement,, 

I  must  do  all  I  can  to  make  the  world's  ordinary  operations 
know  their  sacredness  and  crave  the  sacred  impulse  which  the 
dogmas  have  to  give.  I  must  summon  all  life  to  look  up  to  the 
hills,  .  .  .  and  so  make  it  cry  out  to  the  truths  of  the  Trinity 
and  the  Atonement  to  open  the  depths  of  their  helpfulness,  as 
they  have  never  heard  the  call  to  open  them  when  only  theolo- 
gians were  calling  on  them  to  complete  their  theologic  systems. 
.  .  .  Here  in  the  assertion  of  the  great  human  Church  is  the 
true  adjustment  of  the  relations  of  Doctrine  and  Life.  Doctrine 
kept  active  by  life.      Life  kept  deep  by  doctrine. 

He  goes  on  to  affirm  that  this  large  human  idea  of  the 
church  is  a  vision  which  yet  lacks  fulfilment.  The  church 
and  the  world  are  now  in  conflict,  and  those  who  are  in  the 


628  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1886 

church  must  keep  watchful  guard,  and  dread  and  oppose  the 
evil  influence  of  the  world.  But  it  is  unnatural.  We  must 
never  lose  sight  of  the  vision,  —  the  real  church  and  the  real 
world  struggling  each  into  perfection  for  itself  and  so  both 
into  unity  and  identity  with  each  other.  As  the  history  of 
the  church  passes  in  review,  there  is  encouragement:  "Very 
interesting  have  been  in  history  the  pulsations,  the  brighten- 
ing and  fading,  the  coming  and  going,  of  this  great  truth  of 
the  church  and  the  world,  really  identical."  He  speaks  of 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  and  of  its  relation  to  the 
church  universal :  — 

We  value  and  love  our  Communion  very  deeply.  To  many  of 
us  she  has  been  the  nurse,  almost  the  mother  of  our  spiritual  life. 
To  all  of  us  she  is  endeared  by  long  companionship,  and  by  famil- 
iar sympathy  in  the  profoundest  experiences  through  which  our 
souls  have  passed.  When  we  deliberately  turn  our  backs  for  a 
moment  upon  all  these  rich  and  sweet  associations  and  ask  our- 
selves in  colder  and  more  deliberate  consideration  why  it  is  that 
we  believe  in  our  Episcopal  Church  and  rejoice  to  commend  her 
to  our  fellow  countrymen  and  fellow  men,  the  answer  which  I  find 
myself  giving  is  that  our  Church  seems  to  me  to  be  truly  trying 
to  realize  this  relation  to  the  whole  world,  this  sacredness  of  all 
life,  this  ideal  belonging  of  all  men  to  the  Church  of  Christ, 
which,  as  I  have  been  saying,  is  the  great  truth  of  active  Chris- 
tianity. I  find  the  signs  of  such  an  effort  in  the  very  things  for 
which  some  people  fear  or  blame  our  Church.  I  find  it  in  the 
importance  which  she  gives  to  Baptism  and  in  the  breadth  of  her 
conception  of  that  rite ;  for  Baptism  is  the  strongest  visible  asser- 
tion of  this  truth.  I  find  it  in  her  simplicity  of  doctrine.  I 
find  it  in  the  value  which  she  sets  on  worship;  her  constant  sum- 
mons to  all  men  not  merely  to  be  preached  to,  but  to  pray ;  her 
firm  belief  in  the  ability  and  right  of  all  men  to  offer  prayer  to 
God.  I  find  it  in  her  strong  historic  spirit,  her  sense  of  union 
with  the  ages  which  have  passed  out  of  sight,  and  of  whose  men 
we  know  only  their  absolute  humanity. 

But  he  has  a  word  of  protest  to  make  against  those  who, 
in  the  Episcopal  Church,  love  to  call  her  in  exclusive  phrase 
"The  American  Church."  That  is  a  name  to  which  she  has 
no  right,  but  rather  it  belongs  to  the  total  body  of  Christian- 
ity in  America  which,  under  many  divisions  and  different 


jet.  50]       GENERAL  CONVENTION  629 

names,  broken,  discordant,  disjointed,  often  quarrelsome, 
and  disgracefully  jealous,  yet  still  bearing  witness  to  the 
love  of  God,  the  redemption  of  Christ,  and  the  sacred  possi- 
bilities of  man.  The  doctrine  of  Apostolical  Succession  he 
designates  a  fiction :  — 

If  our  Church  does  especial  work  in  our  country,  it  must  he 
by  the  especial  and  peculiar  way  in  which  she  bears  that  witness ; 
not  by  any  fiction  of  an  apostolic  succession  in  her  ministry  which 
gives  to  them  alone  a  right  to  bear  such  witness.  There  is  no 
such  peculiar  privilege  of  commission  belonging  to  her  or  to  any 
other  human  body. 

He  deprecates  the  exaggeration  of  the  historic  feeling  in 
the  Episcopal  Church,  which,  while  it  makes  part  of  the 
strength  of  the  church,  may  also  constitute  its  weakness. 
It  may  be  tempted  "to  treasure  overmuch  its  association 
with  the  great  Church  of  another  land,  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land," importing  customs  and  costumes,  names  and  ways, 
and  so  become  "what  she  has  been  in  part  of  her  history, 
what  she  is  in  many  parts  of  the  land  to-day,  an  exotic  and 
not  a  true  part  of  the  nation's  life."  "The  true  apostolical 
succession,  .  .  .  she  must  not  boast  that  she  has,  but  she 
must  struggle  more  and  more  earnestly  to  win." 

With  thoughts  like  these  already  in  his  mind,  indeed 
they  had  been  in  his  mind  from  the  beginning  of  his  min- 
istry, Dr.  Brooks  went  as  a  delegate  from  Massachusetts  to 
the  General  Convention  of  the  Episcopal  Church  which  met 
in  Chicago  in  October,  1886.  This  convention  is  remem- 
bered as  having  set  forth  what  is  known  as  the  "Quadrilat- 
eral,"—  the  terms  on  which  the  Episcopal  Church  would 
consent  to  approach  the  question  of  Church  Unity.  By  some 
the  terms  she  proposed  were  regarded  as  an  invitation  to 
organic  union  of  the  churches,  and  by  others  as  a  protest 
against  schemes  of  church  unity  already  broached.  Dr. 
Brooks  had  been  a  member  of  the  General  Convention  since 
1880,  but  had  not  hitherto  taken  any  important  part  in  its 
discussions.  At  the  session  of  1886  he  made  himself  heard 
upon  various  questions  in  debate.  Thus  he  offered  the  fol- 
lowing resolution :  — 


630  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

Resolved,  That  the  General  Convention  of  the  Protestant  Epis- 
copal Church  sends  cordial  greetings  to  the  assembly  of  the  Con- 
gregational Church  now  in  session  in  this  city,  and  expresses  its 
devout  hope  that  our  deliberations,  though  separately  conducted, 
may  minister  together  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  advancement 
of  our  common  Christianity. 

In  support  of  this  resolution  he  spoke,  saying  that  the 
Congregationalists  represented  "a  large  body  of  workers  in 
the  cause  of  Christianity  alongside  of  us,  who  sometimes 
seem  to  me  unnecessarily  separated  from  us."  The  motion 
commended  itself  to  the  House  of  Deputies  and  was  unani- 
mously passed,  with  this  amendment:  "And  we  assure  them 
that  we  earnestly  pray  for  such  real  unity  as  is  according 
to  God's  will  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

On  the  question  raised  in  the  course  of  the  debate  on  the 
revision  of  the  Prayer  Book,  whether  the  "  Venite "  should 
be  changed  so  as  to  correspond  with  the  form  in  the  English 
Prayer  Book,  Dr.  Brooks  opposed  the  change,  deprecating 
the  tendency  to  imitate  the  Church  of  England.  Again,  at 
a  meeting  of  the  General  Convention  sitting  as  the  Board  of 
Missions,  there  was  considerable  discussion  on  the  subject  of 
a  proposed  Enrolment  Fund  looking  to  the  raising  of  a  mil- 
lion dollars,  to  be  devoted  to  missions  only  when  the  full 
amount  should  be  raised.  Dr.  Brooks  spoke  earnestly  in 
behalf  of  the  scheme,  urging  that  these  features  of  the  plan 
should  be  rigidly  adhered  to,  —  that  the  fund  should  not  be 
used  until  the  full  amount  had  been  subscribed,  and  that  the 
money  should  be  collected  in  small  sums  from  the  whole 
church.  "Our  church  is  too  largely  a  church  of  the  rich. 
There  will  be  a  temptation  to  seek  the  money  in  large  con- 
tributions from  rich  men  and  rich  women,  in  sums  of  $1000 
or  $10,000.  Our  church  should  be  interested  in  the  one  dol- 
lars, and  the  idea  made  prominent  that  the  sum  is  to  be 
raised  by  the  people  in  a  multitude  of  small  subscriptions." 

The  Convention  of  1886  is  also  remembered  for  the  effort 
made  to  change  the  name  of  the  church  by  dropping  from  its 
title  the  words  "Protestant  Episcopal."  Various  names  were 
proposed  as  substitutes,   such  as   "The  Catholic  Church," 


jet.  50]         GENERAL  CONVENTION  631 

"The  American  Church,"  while  others  preferred  that  it 
should  be  known,  after  "Protestant  Episcopal"  had  been 
elided,  as  "The  Church  in  the  United  States  of  America." 
In  his  speech  against  the  proposed  change  Mr.  Brooks  urged 
the  fitness  of  the  existing  name  "Protestant  Episcopal"  as 
discriminating  the  church  from  the  Roman  Catholic  on  the 
one  hand,  and  from  Protestant  churches  which  had  not  re- 
tained episcopacy.  It  was  easy  to  make  the  name  sound 
ridiculous  by  a  certain  method  of  pronunciation,  or  by  the 
prolongation  of  the  syllables.  But  the  name  nevertheless 
answered  its  true  purpose.  It  was  not  possible  to  abolish  the 
present  title  without  considering  what  title  should  be  substi- 
tuted. Such  names  as  "American"  or  " Catholic "  implied 
an  assumption  which  was  not  true,  —  that  this  church  was 
one  of  such  large  prominence,  so  largely  representative  of  the 
Christianity  of  America,  that  all  other  denominations  are 
practically  insignificant.  That  tendency  in  the  church  which 
sought  to  borrow  traditions,  vestments,  and  manner  of  wor- 
ship from  the  Church  of  England  did  not  reflect  the  genius 
and  spirit  of  America.  Until  the  church  identified  itself 
more  fully  with  the  spirit  of  American  institutions  and  ceased 
to  support  its  claim  by  its  relation  to  the  Church  of  England, 
it  was  not  entitled  to  be  known  as  the  American  Church. 
But  if  this  ground  were  untenable,  upon  what  other  ground 
could  the  church  take  its  stand  as  the  American  Church? 

It  must  stand  before  the  country  with  the  distinctive  assertion 
of  Apostolical  Succession  as  the  very  substance  and  essence  and 
life  of  the  Church.  Now  there  are  those  who  believe  the  apos- 
tolic succession  to  be  the  essence  and  substance  of  the  Church. 
There  is  no  doubt  about  that.  The  position  which  they  take  in 
regard  to  the  Church  is  absolutely  clear.  That  there  are  other 
men  in  our  Church  who  believe  nothing  of  the  kind,  there  is  no 
doubt.  I,  for  one,  and  I  think  that  I  am  speaking  for  multi- 
tudes in  this  congregation  this  morning,  do  not  believe  in  the 
doctrine  of  apostolic  succession  in  any  such  sense  as  many  receive 
it.  I  do  not  believe  in  the  exclusive  prerogative  which  gives  to 
the  Church  which  receives  it  any  such  absolute  right  of  Christian 
faith.  That  is  not  the  question  before  us ;  but  there  is  no  con- 
ceivable  explanation  of  the  desire  to  change  the   name   of   the 


632  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

Church  except  the  distinct  adoption  of  that  theory  as  the  absolute 
condition  on  which  it  lives.  We  have  been  told,  Sir,  with  great 
rhetorical  flourish,  that  this  Church,  when  it  shall  have  taken  its 
new  name,  is  going  to  extend  its  area  and  take  in  all  Christian- 
ity. I  appeal  to  any  reasoning  man,  whether,  in  any  sense,  this 
is  to  be  considered  an  expansion  of  the  power  of  the  Church.  It 
immediately  dooms  it.  It  dooms  it  to  live  in  the  corner  and 
minister  to  men  who  are  convinced  of  a  certain  theory  with  re- 
gard to  the  possession  of  the  privileges  of  the  Christian  ministry. 
The  passage  of  such  a  resolution  as  should  fasten  upon  this 
Church  the  explicit  title  of  the  American  Catholic  Church  dooms 
it  to  become  distinctly  the  Church  of  those  men  who  accept  the 
theory  which  is  based  upon  mere  historical  argument.  Is  that 
going  to  be  the  Church  of  America?  Is  that  going  to  be  the 
Church  for  praying  people  ?  Is  that  the  Church  which  is  going 
to  do  a  work  worthy  of  the  Church  of  Christ  ? 

On  October  31,  the  first  Sunday  after  his  return  to  Bos- 
ton, Dr.  Brooks  preached  a  sermon  in  which  he  gave  to  his 
congregation  an  account  of  the  convention,  and  then  de- 
nounced in  pointed  and  vigorous  language  the  attempt  to 
change  the  name  of  the  church.  He  was  somewhat  despond- 
ent in  his  tone,  a  thing  so  exceptional  with  him  that  this 
case  forms  almost  the  solitary  instance  in  all  the  years  of  his 
ministry.  The  change  of  name  had  not  been  accomplished, 
and  the  vote  against  it  was  decisive,  but  he  had  been  im- 
pressed with  the  extent  of  the  vote  in  its  favor,  and  was 
haunted  by  the  fear  that  in  the  next  convention  the  change 
would  be  carried.  This  fear  he  did  not  disguise  in  his  ser- 
mon. It  was  a  critical  moment  for  him,  because  he  knew 
that  if  the  name  of  the  church  were  changed  to  the  American 
Church,  in  accordance  with  a  theory  of  apostolical  succession, 
there  was  no  longer  a  place  for  him  in  the  Episcopal  Church. 
He  spoke  out  plainly  what  he  felt  and  what  he  feared.  The 
sermon  which  he  now  preached  created  a  popular  sensation 
throughout  the  breadth  and  length  of  the  land,  and  in  Eng- 
land also,  where  it  was  quickly  carried.  The  sermon  was 
extemporaneous,  with  no  record  of  notes  for  its  preparation, 
but  from  the  full  reports  in  the  papers  its  drift  may  be 
gathered :  — 


jet.  50]        GENERAL  CONVENTION  633 

He  began  by  tracing  the  growing  belief  in  the  theory  of  apos- 
tolical succession,  since  the  time  of  the  Oxford  Movement  in  1833, 
till  at  last  those  who  held  the  theory  proposed  to  make  it  the  car- 
dinal feature  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  the  warrant  for  chang- 
ing its  name.  The  name  proposed  as  a  substitute,  which  seemed 
most  acceptable  to  those  desiring  the  change,  was  "The  American 
Church. "  Upon  this  name  he  commented  to  the  effect,  that  there 
were  only  two  grounds  which  would  justify  its  adoption.  On  the 
first  of  these  grounds,  the  Church  claiming  such  a  name  should  be 
the  largest  in  the  country,  numerically  so  strong  that  all  other 
Christian  communities  would  appear  as  insignificant  or  unimpor- 
tant in  comparison.  But  the  change  of  name  was  not  urged  on 
this  ground;  it  would  be  absurd,  if  it  were,  for  the  Episcopal 
Church  stood  seventh  or  eighth  in  the  list,  when  tested  among  the 
churches  by  its  number  of  communicants.  It  was  evident  there- 
fore that  the  change  of  name  must  be  justified  on  another  ground, 
—  that  the  Episcopal  Church,  even  though  one  of  the  smaller 
Christian  bodies,  had  a  distinct  and  absolute  right,  through  a 
divine  commission  from  Christ  and  the  Apostles  not  possessed  by 
other  churches,  and  entitling  her,  therefore,  to  claim  for  herself, 
and  to  be  known  as,  the  only  true  apostolic,  Catholic  Church  in 
America.  If  the  Episcopal  Church  did  indeed  possess  such  an 
exclusive  commission,  then  she  would  have  the  right  to  the  name, 
"The  Church  in  the  United  States  "  or  the  American  Church. 
Upon  this  point  he  remarked  that  there  was  not  a  line  in  the 
Prayer  Book  which  declares  any  such  theory.  It  was  simply  a 
theory  held  by  individuals,  —  a  theory  which  many  both  of  the 
clergy  and  laity  did  not  believe.  He  avowed  for  himself  that  he 
rejected  the  theory  and  would  not  consent  to  it  for  a  single  day. 
If  this  movement  in  behalf  of  a  change  of  name  were  not  checked, 
and  the  change  were  accomplished,  he  did  not  see  how  he  or  any 
one,  who  did  not  believe  in  apostolical  succession,  could  remain  in 
the  Episcopal  Church.  He  was  despondent  as  he  considered  that 
the  proposition  to  change  the  name  was  defeated  by  what  seemed 
a  small  majority ;  but  there  was  hope  in  the  circumstance  that  the 
laity  were  more  numerously  opposed  to  it  than  the  clergy ;  unless 
the  feeling  and  intentions  of  the  laity  should  be  asserted  more 
strongly  in  the  next  few  years,  he  feared  the  change  would  be  ac- 
complished, and  the  Episcopal  Church  be  doomed  in  consequence 
to  become  a  small  fantastic  sect. 

Having  freed  his  mind  on  the  subject  Dr.  Brooks  refused 
to  be  drawn  into  controversy.  He  became  the  target  for  crit- 
icism, but,  while  many  expositions  were  offered  of  the  falsity 


634  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

of  his  argument,  he  kept  silence.  He  had  not  yet  realized 
the  importance  of  his  utterances,  or  how,  when  he  was  speak- 
ing from  the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church,  the  whole  people 
were  listening  to  him.  No  one  in  the  Episcopal  Church  com- 
manded the  hearing  that  was  accorded  to  him.  It  did  not 
give  him,  in  this  case,  any  pleasure  to  know  that  the  stric- 
tures he  had  made  upon  the  attitude  of  a  party  in  his  own 
church  were  listened  to  by  all  the  churches,  as  though  he 
had  been  specially  speaking  to  them.  He  was  annoyed  by 
the  way  in  which  the  press  had  given  publicity  to  his  re- 
marks. "A  man,"  he  said,  "may  go  on  all  his  life  preach- 
ing the  gospel  and  no  one  takes  any  notice  of  it,  but  when 
he  speaks  of  some  matter  of  church  administration,  he  is 
treated  as  if  he  had  made  some  marvellous  discovery."  Yet 
there  was  justification  for  the  popular  interest  aroused  by 
this  remarkable  sermon.  How  it  impressed  the  congrega- 
tion listening  to  him  is  evident  from  this  testimony  of  one 
who  was  present :  — 

It  was  the  most  thrilling,  dramatic  thing  I  ever  heard.  He 
was  intensely  stirred,  and  the  stillness  as  people  listened  was 
painful.  By  and  by  the  sound  of  sobs  was  heard  in  different 
parts  of  the  church;  the  excitement  was  so  great  that  tears  must 
come  to  relieve  the  tension. 

Phillips  Brooks  was  stirred  to  the  depths  of  his  being.  All 
that  he  held  most  true  was  in  the  issue.  Indignation  min- 
gled with  alarm,  as  in  vehement  speech  he  gave  expression  to 
his  convictions.  He  had  never  been  so  moved  in  any  single 
utterance  since  the  days  of  the  civil  war.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances  he  would  have  taken  a  different  method  of  com- 
bating what  he  regarded  to  be  an  error,  admitting,  indeed, 
that  the  Episcopal  clergy  were  right  in  aspiring  to  claim  an 
apostolical  succession,  but  that  the  clergy  of  other  denomina- 
tions stood  upon  the  same  footing,  equally  entitled  to  the 
same  ambition,  nay,  that  every  man  and  woman,  imitating 
the  life  of  the  apostles,  as  the  apostles  imitated  Christ,  were 
truly  constituted  in  actual,  and  even  tangible,  apostolic  descent. 
Now  he  followed  the  opposite  method,  —  the  denunciation  of 
what  was  untrue  when  it  was  made  an  exclusive  claim.     He 


jet.  50]  THE  NAME  OF  THE  CHURCH      635 

believed  the  moment  had  come  which  called  for  the  courage 
of  a  reformer,  who  must  overthrow  before  he  could  rebuild. 
Under  this  conviction,  roused  to  moral  indignation,  he  became 
like  the  whirlwind  in  its  devastating  power. 

But  in  taking  this  attitude  he  felt  that  he  was  not  alone ; 
that  he  was  supported  by  eminent  scholars  in  the  Anglican 
Church:  Dr.  Arnold  of  Rugby,  Bishop  Lightfoot  of  Durham, 
Dr.  Hatch  in  his  studies  of  early  Christian  organization. 
Such,  also,  he  knew  was  the  attitude  of  the  reformers  in  the 
English  Church  in  the  sixteenth  century.  In  the  American 
Episcopal  Church  there  had  been  many  bishops  and  clergy 
from  the  time  of  Bishop  White,  who  held  the  same  convic- 
tion, valuing  episcopacy,  regarding  it  as  having  apostolic 
sanction,  yet  as  not  essential  to  the  existence  of  a  Christian 
church.  Of  some  of  these  the  lives  have  been  written  and 
their  opinions  placed  on  record  :  Bishop  Griswold  of  Massa- 
chusetts,1 Bishop  Mcllvaine  of  Ohio,2  Bishop  Meade  of  Vir- 
ginia.3 Among  them  was  also  his  revered  teacher  in  Virginia, 
Dr.  Sparrow,  with  whose  more  outspoken  words  on  the  sub- 
ject he  was  in  sympathy.4     The  attempt  to  change  the  name 

1  Cf.  Life  of  Bishop  Griswold,  by  Rev.  John  S.  Stone,  D.  D.,  pp.  221,  343- 
345,  361-364. 

2  Cf.  Life  of  Bishop  Mcllvaine,  by  Cams,  p.  273  ;  also  Hall,  Works,  vi.  p.  56. 
8  Memoir  of  Rt.  Bev.  Wm.  Meade,  D.D.,  by  tbe  Rt.  Rev.  J.  Johns,  D.  D., 

pp.  175,  176. 

4  Cf.  Life  and  Correspondence  of  William  Sparrow,  D.  D.,  by  Cornelius 
Walker,  D.  D.  p.  155  :  — 

"  On  the  subject  of  the  Apostolic  Succession  I  am  clearer  than  ever ;  and  I 
do  not  think  that  a  man  can  logically  and  consistently  hold  to  that  as  an  essen- 
tial of  a  valid  ministry,  and  maintain  true  Protestant  principles.  That  was  the 
nov  otw  on  which  the  Tractarians  planted  their  lever,  in  the  first  numbers  of 
their  series,  and  by  which  they  have  been  enabled  to  move  the  Church,  as  with 
an  earthquake.  And  so  long  as  a  man,  or  a  church,  holds  to  it,  he  is  liable,  or 
it  is  liable,  to  go  off  in  a  Romish  tangent,  further  and  further,  till  met  by  the 
secant  of  Romish  infallibility." 

"  The  doctrine  of  Apostolical  Succession  as  commonly  taught  is  the  back- 
bone of  both  systems  [Roman  and  High  Anglican].  Both  alike  resolve  the 
being  of  a  church  into  it.  Those  that  have  it,  no  matter  how  heretical  (I  had 
the  statement  alike  from  a  Catholic  and  a  Protestant  Bishop),  are  a  Church; 
those  who  have  it  not,  no  matter  how  orthodox  and  pious  and  outwardly  regu- 
lar, are  no  Church.  Good  Lord  deliver  me  from  such  a  caricature  of  the  sim- 
ple and  spiritual  Gospel  of  Christ."     B)id.  p.  195. 


636  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

of  the  church  was  equivalent  to  the  condemnation  of  these 
and  many  other  honored  names.  Had  it  been  accomplished, 
he  himself  would  have  been  driven  from  the  Episcopal 
Church. 

From  this  time  Phillips  Brooks  never  ceased  to  hear  the 
renewing  echoes  of  his  utterance.  The  letters  poured  in 
upon  him  at  once  from  every  part  of  the  country  and  from 
England,  most  of  them  thanking  him  for  his  sermon. 
There  was  a  tone  of  excitement  in  them,  or  exhilarated 
gratitude.  Many  of  these  letters  came  from  persons  of 
distinction  or  of  high  social  position,  but  also  from  hum- 
ble women  and  inquiring  students,  who  thanked  him  for  his 
words.  It  was  the  laity  who  were  chiefly  moved  to  thank- 
fulness. It  is  not  without  its  pathos  and  its  deeper  mean- 
ing that  many  who  wrote  him  belonged  to  other  denomina- 
tions. It  was  clear  that  it  had  not  been  without  pain  that 
they  had  seemed  to  see  the  Episcopal  Church  withdrawing 
from  the  fellowship  of  the  other  Protestant  churches,  and 
erecting  an  impassable  barrier  between  them.  They  were 
loyal  to  their  own  communion,  but  they  also  loved  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  and  would  fain  have  had  the  privilege  of  its 
ministrations  whenever  convenience  allowed.  Phillips  Brooks 
had  spoken  to  them  with  authority  and  in  the  interest  of 
Christian  unity  and  fellowship.  His  name  now  became 
dearer  than  ever  to  those  who  professed  and  called  them- 
selves Christians,  to  whatever  denomination  they  belonged, 
and  to  those  unchurched  masses  who  looked  up  to  him  as 
their  teacher  and  spokesman. 

And  there  also  came  letters  of  another  kind,  some  of  them 
anonymous,  asking  him  to  confine  his  attention  to  preaching 
the  gospel  and  let  the  church  alone.  He  was  only  renewing 
old  controversies  which  would  otherwise  have  died  out,  and 
he  was  embittering  party  spirit.  Others  called  his  attention 
to  parts  of  the  Prayer  Book,  which  in  his  supposed  ignorance 
he  had  overlooked.  This  was  not  all.  An  aged  clergyman, 
who,  with  his  wife,  had  been  devoted  to  him,  finding  comfort 
and  inspiration  from  his  sermons,  wrote  to  him  in  great  dis- 
tress because  of  a  report  which  was  in  circulation,  and  had 


jet.  50]  THE  NAME  OF  THE  CHURCH     637 

found  its  way  into  the  newspapers,  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
become  an  "apostate,"  had  "denied  the  truth  of  the  Trin- 
ity, of  the  Incarnation,  and  of  apostolic  succession,  and  was 
about  to  leave  the  church  for  Unitarianism."  Others  still 
thought  it  was  not,  perhaps,  too  late  to  labor  with  him,  and 
to  give  him  some  light  on  the  origin  of  the  Christian  minis- 
try. 

The  disturbance  which  this  subject  brought  to  Mr.  Brooks 
did  not  at  once  subside.  In  proportion  to  his  depth  and 
intensity  of  his  feeling  was  the  inward  revolt  through  which 
he  was  passing.  It  required  time  before  he  could  again 
regard  the  future  of  the  Episcopal  Church  with  complacency 
and  hope.  Meantime  it  was  fortunate  that  immediately 
after  his  return  from  the  convention,  it  fell  to  him  to  take 
up  his  work  at  Harvard,  where  association  with  the  young 
life  brought  its  healing  balm  to  a  spirit  that  had  been 
wounded.  The  following  extracts  are  from  his  letters  writ- 
ten while  in  Chicago  :  — 

Chicago,  Illinois,  October  19, 1886. 

My  dear ,  Did  you  ever  get  a  letter  from  the  General 

Convention?  It  is  getting  pretty  dull.  The  long  debate  upon 
Appellate  Courts  has  just  got  decided,  and  they  are  talking  about 
some  useless  Canons,  in  a  very  helpless  way.  So  I  have  come 
out  into  the  lobby  here  to  write  and  tell  you  all  about  it.  There 
is  a  long  table  at  which  a  lot  of  black-coated  clergymen  are 
writing.  Some,  I  suppose,  are  writing  to  their  wives,  and  some  to 
their  senior  wardens.  .  .  .  The  people  of  Chicago  are  very  hos- 
pitable, and  I  have  had  a  first-rate  time.  Last  week  I  went  out 
to  dinner  every  day,  and  it  was  great  fun.  They  have  very  big 
houses  and  are  very  rich.  The  men  are  better  than  the  women, 
whom  I  do  not  like.  The  city  is  enormous,  and  when  they  take 
you  out  for  a  drive  there  is  no  knowing  when  you  will  get  back. 
But  the  convention  is  not  good.  The  great  debate  of  last  week 
was  upon  changing  the  Church's  name,  and  the  change  they 
wanted  to  make  would  have  left  no  chance  for  sensible  work  in 
the  Church,  nor  even,  as  it  seems  to  me,  for  sensible  men  to  con- 
tinue in  her  ministry.  Fortunately  it  was  defeated,  but  by  so 
small  a  majority  that  it  is  evidently  pretty  sure  to  come  some 
day.  But  I  must  go  back  to  my  seat.  Good-by,  my  love  to 
Gert,  and  I  shall  be  at  home  week  after  next. 


638  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

Chicago,  October  27, 1886. 
Dear  Cooper,  —  You  were  a  very  good  man  to  write  me  a 
letter  which  broke  the  monotony  of  the  convention,  and  cheered 

my  soul  up  very  much  indeed.     W has  not  come  up  yet 

from  breakfast,  and  I  will  answer  your  note  before  he  gets  here 
and  wants  to  smoke.  The  convention  has  been  really  very  bad 
indeed.  No  spark  of  generous  or  noble  spirit  has  appeared  in 
its  debates.  The  crowding  forward  of  the  hard  formal  Ecclesi- 
astical spirit  has  been  evident  everywhere.  The  friends  of  the 
new  name  are  rejoiced,  as  they  have  reason  to  be,  and  confidently 
expect  to  carry  their  purpose  (as  they  will)  at  the  next  conven- 
tion, and  I  am  glad  that  we  are  going  home  to-morrow.  I  wish 
that  I  could  stop  on  the  way  and  see  the  big  statue  inaugurated 
in  New  York.  That  would  be  well  worth  while,  and  vastly 
more  interesting  than  the  convention.  But  I  shall  get  home  in 
time  for  the  great  festival  we  are  going  to  have  over  the  two 
hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary  of  Harvard.  That  is  going  to 
be  the  big  Boston  sensation  of  the  autumn. 

To  Mr.  Brooks,  in  his  despondency,  there  came  letters 
of  reassurance,  telling  him  that  his  fears  were  groundless. 
Thus  an  eminent  lawyer  wrote  to  him :  — 

Boston,  November  1,  1886. 

Notwithstanding  your  apprehensions,  I  assure  you  that,  under 
no  possible  circumstances,  will  the  laity  of  our  Church,  who 
mingle  so  much  more  with  the  members  of  other  churches  than 
do  the  clergy,  ever  consent  to  adopt  any  such  name  as  "The 
Church  in  the  United  States, "  or  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  or 
anything  like  it.     No  —  never! 

One  reason  they  were  not  more  generally  heard  from  in  the 
late  convention,  I  doubt  not,  was  the  belief  that  no  such  absurd 
proposition  ever  could  pass.  In  looking  over  my  list  of  those 
who  voted  "Nay"  on  this  subject,  I  note  the  absence  of  many 
from  the  East  who  would  undoubtedly  have  voted  against  it, 
while  the  Western  dioceses  were  more  fully  represented. 

Mark  my  words,  they  will  never  come  so  near  passing  it  again ! 

A  prominent  layman  of  Boston  wrote  to  him :  — 

Boston,  November  2,  1886. 
Dear  Dr.  Brooks,  — I  have  read  with  great  interest  the 
report  of  your  sermon  on  last  Sunday  morning,  and  I  want  to 
say  that  I  agree  to  every  word  of  it ;  and  further  wish  to  thank 
you  for  so  clear  and  positive  an  utterance.  It  is  high  time  that 
a  warning  voice  be  raised;  at  the  same  time,  I  believe  that  the 


jet.  50]     HARVARD  ANNIVERSARY  639 

laity  of  the  country  are  overwhelmingly  of  your  way  of  thinking, 
and  they  will  never  consent  to  a  change  of  name  for  the  church,  nor 
approve  the  extremes  which  the  men  who  live  in  closets  advocate. 
In  my  opinion  there  will  always  he  a  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church  regardless  of  any  action  that  may  he  taken  by  any  future 
convention.  And  should  these  matters  in  dispute  be  pressed  to 
a  division  of  the  Church,  the  advocates  of  a  new  name  will  be 
the  outsiders. 

Sincerely  yours, . 

This  letter  was  written  by  the  president  of  a  New  Eng- 
land college :  — 

I  cannot  refrain,  after  reading  the  report  in  yesterday's  "Trib- 
une "  of  your  sermon  on  Sunday  last,  from  expressing  to  you  my 
gratitude  at  your  frank  repudiation  of  a  doctrine  which  has  been 
a  great  hindrance  to  the  advance  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  and,  as  I  believe,  to  the  progress  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
in  America. 

Thousands  who  have  read  your  words  hitherto  with  the  deepest 
interest  will  henceforth  feel  towards  you  a  loving  loyalty  that 
knows  no  limit.  Not  that  before  I  have  really  believed  that  you 
held  such  a  doctrine  as  that  there  are  no  other  ministers  of  Christ 
but  those  in  the  supposed  direct  apostolic  descent,  but  the  frank 
rejection  of  this  belief,  and  the  loving  brotherhood  expressed  by 
you  for  others,  will  certainly  give  the  deepest  joy  to  a  great 
many. 

The  Harvard  festival,  commemorating  the  two  hundred 
and  fiftieth  anniversary,  began  on  the  5th  of  November,  the 
festivities  lasting  for  four  days.  Friday,  the  first  of  these 
days,  was  the  Day  of  the  Law  School ;  Saturday  was  Under- 
graduates' Day;  Sunday  was  Foundation  Day,  and  Monday 
the  Day  of  the  Alumni,  when  the  honorary  degrees  were  con- 
ferred. Congratulations  came  from  Cambridge  University 
in  England,  and  from  the  Universities  of  Edinburgh  and 
Heidelberg.  Foreign  visitors  were  present  as  delegates  of 
these  universities:  Professor  Mandell  Creighton  (now  Lord 
Bishop  of  London)  with  a  message  from  Emmanuel  College, 
Cambridge,  of  which  John  Harvard  was  a  member ;  Dr. 
Charles  Taylor,  Master  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge; 
and  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  Lyon  Playfair,  of  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh.    The  President  of  the  United  States,  Grover  Cleve- 


640  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1886 

land,  honored  the  occasion  with  his  presence  on  Alumni  Day, 
and  the  festivities  culminated,  when  James  Russell  Lowell 
was  the  orator,  and  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  read  the  poem. 
A  large  number  of  the  alumni  were  there,  for  Harvard 
counted  among  the  living  graduates  of  the  College  alone 
4600  names.  Everything  was  done  which  could  give  pres- 
tige to  the  celebration. 

One  day,  Sunday,  the  7th  of  November,  was  consecrated 
to  religion,  when  alumni  of  the  College  who  were  in  the  min- 
istry had  been  requested  to  recall  in  their  respective  places 
the  history  of  Harvard.  The  sermon  in  the  morning  of  that 
day  was  preached  by  Professor  Francis  G.  Peabody,  at  Apple- 
ton  Chapel,  and  in  the  evening  came  the  sermon  by  Phillips 
Brooks.  His  subject  had  been  assigned  him,  the  religious 
history  of  Harvard.  He  took  for  his  text  the  words  of  St. 
Paul,  "Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for- 
ever." The  changes  through  which  the  College  had  passed 
he  refused  to  look  upon  in  a  negative  way  as  a  mere  casting 
off  of  restraints,  but  rather  as  so  many  successive  enlarge- 
ments, wherein  the  partial  was  gradually  reconciling  itself  to 
the  universal,  the  temporary  fulfilling  itself  with  the  eternal. 
He  could  speak  but  briefly  of  these  religious  vicissitudes, 
in  a  history  which  covered  two  hundred  and  fifty  years.  But 
his  brief  summary  reviewed  the  ground  where  momentous 
controversies  had  been  waged :  — 

There  was  a  discipline  of  the  Christian  church  larger  than  the 
discipline  of  the  Puritans,  in  which  the  discipline  of  the  Puri- 
tans had  floated  as  the  part  floats  in  the  whole.  The  discipline 
of  the  Puritans  felt  that;  was  pressed  on,  was  tempted  by  it, 
and  at  last  broke  open  in  the  attempt  to  find  it.  Experience 
was  larger  than  Whitfield,  dogma  was  larger  than  Calvin,  life 
was  larger  than  theology;  and  so,  one  after  another,  in  these 
which  are  the  concentric  spheres  within  which  human  nature  lives, 
the  successive  openings  of  the  partial  into  the  universal,  and  the 
temporary  into  the  eternal  came.  .  .  .  "What  is  this  universal 
and  eternal  power  within  which  these  and  all  the  temporary 
struggles  of  mankind  are  included  ?  We  open  the  Sacred  Book, 
we  turn  to  the  majestic  letter  written  centuries  ago  to  members 
of  the  great  sacred  nation,  and  there  we  find  our  answer,  "Jesus 
Christ,  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever. " 
A 


jet.  50]      HARVARD  ANNIVERSARY  641 

He  was  thus  led  to  ask  the  question,  What  and  who  is 
Jesus  Christ  ?  At  this  point  in  his  sermon,  the  inextinguish- 
able theological  curiosity  was  alert  to  know  the  answer  he 
would  make.  The  mere  curiosity  would  have  been  satisfied 
had  he  announced  his  adherence  to  the  Athanasian  formula, 
as  given  in  the  Nicene  Creed,  carefully  discriminating  it 
from  Arian  or  Socinian  teaching.  This  formula  he  held  with 
mind  and  heart,  but  it  was  not  the  time  or  place  for  theo- 
logical discussion.  He  could  have  satisfied  curiosity,  but  he 
would  have  alienated  the  larger  part  of  his  audience  and 
killed  the  effect  of  his  utterance.  He  did  not  stand  there 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  putting  himself  on  record,  or  of 
"bearing  witness"  as  he  has  called  it  in  his  "Lectures  on 
Preaching,"  which  has  the  tendency  to  weaken  the  message. 
He  therefore  gave  the  conditions,  the  atmosphere,  out  of 
which  the  formula  had  originally  grown,  and  left  the  infer- 
ence to  his  hearers :  — 

And  what  and  who  is  Jesus  Christ  ?  In  reverence  and  humility 
let  us  give  our  answer.  He  is  the  meeting  of  the  Divine  and 
Human,  —  the  presence  of  God  in  humanity,  the  perfection  of 
humanity  in  God ;  the  divine  made  human,  the  human  shown  to 
be  capable  of  union  with  the  divine;  the  utterance,  therefore,  of 
the  nearness  and  the  love  of  God,  and  of  the  possibility  of  man. 
Once  in  the  ages  came  the  wondrous  life,  once  in  the  stretch  of 
history  the  face  of  Jesus  shone  in  Palestine,  and  His  feet  left 
their  blessed  impress  upon  earth;  but  what  that  life  made  mani- 
fest had  been  forever  true.  Its  truth  w,as  timeless,  the  truth  of 
all  eternity.  The  love  of  God,  the  possibility  of  man,  —  these 
two  which  made  the  Christhood,  —  these  two,  not  two  but  one, 
had  been  the  element  in  which  all  life  was  lived,  all  knowledge 
known,  all  growth  attained.  Oh,  how  little  men  have  made  it, 
and  how  great  it  is !  Around  all  life  which  ever  has  been  lived 
there  has  been  poured  forever  the  life  of  the  loving  deity  and  the 
ideal  humanity.  All  partial  excellence,  all  learning,  all  brother- 
hood, all  hope,  has  been  bosomed  on  this  changeless,  this  unchan- 
ging Being  which  has  stretched  from  the  forgotten  beginning  to 
the  unguessed  end.  It  is  because  God  has  been  always,  and  been 
always  good,  and  because  man  has  been  always  the  son  of  God, 
capable  in  the  very  substance  of  his  nature  of  likeness  to  and 
union  with  his  Father,  —  it  is  because  of  this  that  nobleness  has 
never  died,  that  truth  has  been  sought  and  found,  that  struggle 

vol.  n 


642  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1886 

and  hope  have  always  sprung  anew,  and  that  the  life  of  man  has 
always  reached  to  larger  and  to  larger  things. 

This  is  the  Christian  truth  of  Christ.  "In  Him  was  life,  and 
the  life  was  the  light  of  men."  This  is  the  truth  of  man's  re- 
demption. As  any  man  or  any  institution  feels  and  claims 
around  its  life,  as  the  element  in  which  it  is  to  live,  the  sympa- 
thy of  God  and  the  perfectibility  of  man,  that  man  or  institution 
is  redeemed;  its  fetters  and  restraints  give  way,  and  it  goes 
forward  to  whatever  growth  and  glory  it  is  in  the  line  of  its 
being  to  attain. 

On  December  15  Mr.  Brooks  took  part  in  the  commemo- 
ration of  the  two  hundredth  anniversary  of  King's  Chapel, 
making  an  address  which  was  felicitous  under  difficult  cir- 
cumstances. As  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  a  daughter 
of  King's  Chapel,  it  was  appropriate  that  he  should  be  pre- 
sent; but  recalling  the  theological  divergence  in  consequence 
of  which  King's  Chapel  had  been  lost  to  the  Episcopal 
Church,  the  occasion  called  for  wisdom  and  moderation. 
Under  these  conditions  he  spoke,  dwelling  on  the  civic  in- 
terests which  united  the  two  parishes,  on  their  common  rela- 
tion to  American  history,  on  the  deeper  issues  which  under- 
lay theological  discussion  and  religious  differences.  "The 
present  condition  of  the  religious  world  was  not  a  finality. 
There  was  to  be  a  future  for  the  Christian  church,  bringing 
richer  results  than  the  past  had  attained.  There  were  pro- 
blems which  had  not  yet  been  solved.  To  prepare  for  that 
future,  it  was  not  needful  to  revive  old  disputes,  but,  while 
recognizing  their  earnestness,  to  strive  for  a  deeper  consecra- 
tion to  Christ  in  personal  obedience." 

It  seems  to  me  that  any  one  who  looks  back  on  the  past  and 
recognizes  in  history  the  great  providence  of  God  in  His  dealings 
with  men  —  so  much  deeper  than  men  have  begun  to  compre- 
hend —  simply  wants  to  say  to  any  church,  speaking  for  his  own 
as  he  speaks  for  others :  Let  us  go  and  seek  that  Christ,  that  in- 
finite Christ,  whom  we  have  not  begun  to  know  as  we  may  know 
Him ;  that  Christ  who  has  so  much  more  to  show  us  than  He 
has  shown;  that  Christ  who  can  show  Himself  to  us  only  as  we 
give  ourselves  in  absolute  obedience  to  Him.  May  that  Christ 
receive  from  us,  in  each  new  period  of  our  history,  more  complete 
consecration,  more  entire  acceptance  of  Him  as  our  Master;  and 


jet.  50]     THE  CHRISTMAS  SERMON  643 

so  may  we  receive  from  Him  rich  promises  of  new  light,  new 
manifestations  of  His  truth,  new  gifts  of  His  Spirit,  which  He 
has  promised  to  bestow  upon  those  who  consecrate  themselves  to 
Him  in  loving  obedience,  unto  the  end  of  time  and  through  all 
eternity!  If  one  may  turn  a  greeting  to  a  prayer,  may  I  not 
ask  for  you,  as  I  know  you  ask  for  all  of  our  churches,  a  more 
profound  and  absolute  spirit  of  consecration  to  our  Master, 
Christ,  that  in  Him,  and  only  in  Him,  we  may  seek  after  and 
come  to  His  ever  richer  life  ? 

Among  the  books  he  was  reading  was  the  Life  of  Long- 
fellow. "How  charming  it  is!  What  a  bright,  happy, 
friendly  existence  he  had!"  The  approaching  Christmas 
brought  to  him,  as  usual,  an  inward  peace  and  delight.  He 
commemorated  it  this  year  by  going  to  a  Sunday-school  cele- 
bration of  poor  children,  where  a  stereopticon  exhibition  was 
to  be  given  to  which  he  had  been  invited  to  comment  on  the 
different  pictures.  But  on  the  Sunday  before  Christmas  he 
could  not  refrain  from  reverting  to  the  topic  which  had 
pained  him.  He  preached  a  sermon  on  the  apostolic  com- 
mission, from  the  text  St.  Matthew  xxviii.  20:  "Lo,  I  am 
with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world,"  and  brought 
out  in  more  positive  form  the  truth  whose  denial  seemed  to 
him  to  be  fraught  with  grave  danger.  The  sermon  was 
heard  from  by  an  anonymous  letter,  reproaching  him  for 
higgling  about  a  name  and  talking  of  a  danger  which  no  one 
saw  but  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

1887 

INCIDENTS  IN  PARISH  LIFE.  INVITATION  TO  DELIVER  THE 
BAMPTON  LECTURES.  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS. 
SERMON  AT  FANEUIL  HALL.  ST.  ANDREW'S  MISSION 
CHURCH.  TENTH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  THE  CONSECRATION 
OF  TRLNTTY  CHURCH.  SERMON  AT  ANDOVER.  SUMMER 
IN  EUROPE.      DLLNESS.      CORRESPONDENCE 

The  events  described  in  the  last  chapter  are  important, 
but  the  most  important  features  in  the  life  of  Phillips 
Brooks  baffle  description.  It  defies  the  imagination  when 
we  attempt  to  reproduce  the  scene  at  Trinity  Church  on 
successive  Sundays  in  each  revolving  year,  when  every  Sun- 
day seemed  like  the  bridal  of  earth  and  sky.  Of  any  one 
of  these  years  the  same  story  may  be  told.  There  was  no 
diminution  in  the  power  of  the  preacher,  but  rather  an  in- 
crease in  the  mystic  potency  of  his  appeal.  There  was  no 
decline  in  the  people's  interest.  What  a  newspaper  writer 
says  of  the  Sundays  in  1887  was  true  of  the  preceding  and 
of  the  following  years:  "Every  Sunday  crowds  are  to  be 
seen  packing  the  vestibules  and  the  corridors  of  Trinity  in 
vain  efforts  to  enter."  Whatever  might  be  the  subject  of 
the  sermon,  it  was  impossible  for  the  preacher  to  be  dull  or 
uninteresting;  it  was  impossible  to  be  present  and  not  to 
listen.  No  theatre  could  compete  for  interest  or  fascination 
with  Trinity  Church,  where  religion  was  invested  with  per- 
petual freshness,  as  if  therein  lay  the  charm  of  living.  One 
Sunday  a  stranger  was  observed,  who,  after  the  service  was 
over,  seemed  to  be  confused,  looking  about  in  a  distracted 
way.  He  was  asked  if  he  had  lost  anything.  He  replied : 
"I  feel  as  if  the  gods  had  come  down  again  to  the  earth.  I 
have  come  all  the  way  from  Canada  just  to  hear  him  preach, 


jet.  $1]      HENRY   WARD   BEECHER  645 

and  I  would  come  again."  A  person  who  went  to  Trinity 
for  the  purpose  of  studying  the  congregation  as  well  as  the 
preacher,  looked  about  him  for  a  moment  to  find  every  face 
upturned  to  the  pulpit,  and  was  unable  to  cast  more  than 
this  furtive  glance  for  fear  he  would  lose  what  the  preacher 
was  saying.  We  must  not  attempt  to  describe  these  occa- 
sions, or  even  to  enumerate  the  sermons  still  remembered  by 
those  who  heard  them.  But  the  mind  seeks  points  on  which 
to  rest  in  a  bewildering  environment  of  wealth,  as  in  a  pic- 
ture gallery  where  nothing  is  seen  if  the  attempt  is  made  to 
look  at  everything.  In  the  midst  of  this  distraction  let  a 
few  incidents  be  taken  as  types  of  the  rest. 

It  was  a  custom  of  Mr.  Brooks  through  many  years  to 
speak  in  his  sermons  of  eminent  persons  who  had  died, 
whether  in  church  or  state.  One  of  his  favorite  hymns 
was,  "Who  are  these  in  bright  array?"  When  he  an- 
nounced it,  the  people  knew  that  he  had  lost  some  friend,  or 
was  about  to  commemorate  the  departure  of  some  one  known 
for  distinguished  services.  On  the  Sunday  after  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  died,  he  took  for  his  text,  "He  that  over- 
cometh  shall  inherit  all  things."  "It  seems  very  strange," 
said  some  one  who  was  present,  "that  no  daily  paper  of  the 
following  Monday  contained  any  report  of  that  sermon." 
This  was  in  substance  what  was  said  of  Mr.  Beecher  at  the 
close  of  the  sermon,  as  it  is  recalled  by  an  interested  lis- 
tener :  — 

I  know  that  you  are  all  thinking  as  I  speak  of  the  great  soul 
that  has  passed  away,  of  the  great  preacher,  for  he  was  the 
greatest  preacher  in  America,  and  the  greatest  preacher  means 
the  greatest  power  in  the  land.  To  make  a  great  preacher,  two 
things  are  necessary,  the  love  of  truth  and  the  love  of  souls ;  and 
surely  no  man  had  greater  love  of  truth  or  love  of  souls  than 
Henry  Ward  Beecher.  Great  services,  too,  did  he  render  to  the- 
ology, which  is  making  great  progress  now.  It  is  not  that  we  are 
discovering  new  truths,  but  that  what  lay  dead  and  dry  in  men's 
souls  has  awakened.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  has  been  poured 
into  humanity,  and  no  one  more  than  Mr.  Beecher  has  helped  to 
this,  pouring  his  great  insight  and  sympathy  and  courage  out  upon 
the  truths  which  God  gave  him  to  deliver.     A  great  leader  in 


646  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

the  theological  world,  helieving  in  the  Divine  Christ  and  in  eter- 
nal hope  for  mankind,  foremost  in  every  great  work  and  in  all 
progress,  one  of  that  nohle  band  of  men  whose  hands  clutched 
the  throat  of  slavery,  and  never  relaxed  their  hold  till  the  last 
shackle  fell  off;  inspiring  men  to  war,  speaking  words  of  love 
and  reconciliation  when  peace  had  come,  standing  by  the  poor 
and  oppressed,  bringing  a  slave  girl  into  his  pulpit  and  making 
his  people  pay  her  ransom.  A  true  American  like  Webster,  a 
great  preacher,  a  great  leader,  a  great  patriot,  a  great  man. 

"We  feel  sure  that  Mr.  Beecher  knew  these  Revelation  pro- 
mises. Wonderful  was  the  vitality  given  him.  Surely  he  had 
inner  communion  with  God.  Truly  was  he  a  pillar  of  the  tem- 
ple. Rejoice  in  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.  They  have 
overcome  and  shall  inherit  all  things. 

Part  of  the  impressiveness  of  the  moment  lay  in  the  feel- 
ing which  all  shared,  that  it  was  the  greatest  of  living 
preachers  who  was  paying  this  tribute,  and  in  so  doing  was 
unconsciously  describing  himself.  Phillips  Brooks  had  often 
listened  to  Mr.  Beecher  in  the  pulpit  or  on  the  platform  of 
the  lecturer,  but  the  two  men  had  never  met.  An  extract 
from  a  letter  to  Dr.  Brooks  is  here  given,  which  describes 
a  scene  worth  remembering,  —  a  picture  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  visiting  Trinity  Church :  — 

New  York,  March  27,  1887. 

I  regret  very  much  that  you  did  not  know  him  [Beecher]  per- 
sonally. He  was  an  admirer  of  yours.  He  was  very  fond  of 
the  Episcopal  Church.  His  mother  was  of  that  denomination. 
One  forenoon  he  and  I  visited  your  Church.  No  one  but  the 
janitor  was  there.  We  spent  three  hours  there.  His  admiration 
of  the  architecture  and  of  the  decorations  was  great.  He  went 
so  far  as  to  carry  out  the  unfinished  decorations,  and  made  many 
suggestions  as  to  what  he  would  put  in  such  and  such  panels  and 
niches  and  arches.  He  said  there  that  he  wished  to  know  you. 
It  was  there  he  told  me  about  his  mother,  and  took  from  his 
pocket  a  lock  of  her  hair  and  showed  me.  As  he  related  the 
history  of  her  saintly  life  he  wept.  He  never  knew  his  mother; 
but  few  men  ever  loved  more  deeply  a  mother's  memory. 

There  was  one  sermon  most  characteristic,  which  for  some 
reason  was  made  the  occasion  of  criticism  in  the  daily 
papers.  The  text  was  from  the  words  of  the  children  of 
Israel  to  Moses :  "  Speak  thou  to  us ;  let  not  God  speak  to 


jet.  51]        RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  647 

us,  lest  we  die."  One  of  those  who  heard  the  sermon,  and 
commented  on  it,  thought  that  "he  did  not  sufficiently  ap- 
peal to  the  understanding,  but  stirred  the  emotions  beyond 
all  precedent."  Another  critic  of  the  same  sermon  thought 
that  he  magnified  the  understanding  at  the  expense  of  the 
emotions.  Another  remarked  that  he  did  not  make  a  prac- 
tical application;  that  after  a  sermon  of  thirty  minutes,  in 
which  he  had  said  as  much  as  most  preachers  would  require 
forty-five  minutes  to  utter,  he  closed  too  abruptly,  before  he 
had  a  chance  for  the  familiar  exhortation.  Some  of  his  hearers 
said  that  he  underrated  the  power  of  sin  and  worldliness  in 
individual  lives,  but  the  general  impression  was  to  the  effect 
that  sin  and  worldliness  were  never  so  forcibly  exposed  and 
tracked  to  their  inmost  lairs.  This  is  a  report  of  the  sermon 
by  a  listener  who  was  asked  for  his  opinion :  — 

There  was  a  profound  spiritual  morality  in  the  sermon.  God 
was  so  presented  that  you  felt  as  if  to  live  unto  God  and  to  allow 
Him  to  live  in  you  was  the  first  and  only  thing  to  be  thought  of. 
There  were  times  when  the  preacher  presented  this  truth  so 
strongly  that  you  felt  as  if  God  had  come  to  live  in  each  separate 
soul  in  the  congregation.  You  felt  intensely  the  smallness  of 
the  lives  of  those  who  fear  to  have  God  speak  with  them  lest  the 
enjoyment  of  life  should  cease. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  reappointed  a  preacher  to  Harvard  Uni- 
versity for  the  year  1887-88,  as  indeed  he  continued  to  be 
reappointed  until  1891.  The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity 
was  conferred  upon  him  by  Columbia  University  at  its  one 
hundredth  anniversary.  He  declined  a  request  from  the 
editor  of  the  "Contemporary  Review,"  asking  him  to  de- 
scribe the  working  of  religion  in  America,  about  which  the 
English  mind  was  not  clear.  Any  one  who  knew  Phillips 
Brooks  will  be  amused  at  an  invitation  he  received  to  meet 
the  late  Mr.  Ingersoll  in  joint  debate  on  some  question  touch- 
ing the  essentials  of  the  Christian  religion.  To  enumerate 
the  many  invitations  to  occasions  outside  of  his  ministerial 
life  is  needless,  but  among  them  may  be  mentioned  a  speech 
which  he  made  in  1887  before  the  insurance  societies,  where 
he  turned  over  the  principle  of  "safety  "  in  its  relations  to  a 


648  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

man's  work  in  the  world  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  an  inval- 
uable advertisement  if  it  could  have  been  utilized  for  that 
purpose.  He  went  to  a  meeting  of  Methodist  ministers, 
where  the  subject  of  Christian  Unity  was  to  be  discussed. 
His  address  deepened  the  conviction  that  Christian  unity 
already  existed.  During  Lent  he  took  for  his  subject  with 
his  Bible  class  the  Apostles'  Creed.  The  course  was  one  of 
great  interest,  and  was  largely  attended.  He  treated  his 
theme  in  the  manner  of  a  conventional  systematic  theologian, 
making  formal  definitions,  stating  objections  and  meeting 
them,  dealing  with  modern  theories.  It  was  unlike  his 
method  in  the  pulpit  and  it  may  not  have  been  wholly  con- 
genial to  him,  but  no  one  could  surpass  him  in  this  line 
when  he  chose  to  undertake  it.  The  very  full  analysis  made 
for  each  lecture  is  so  admirable  that  one  regrets  he  did  not 
put  his  work  in  permanent  form. 

In  April  he  received  an  invitation  from  Dr.  Jowett,  of 
Balliol  College,  Oxford,  to  deliver  the  Bampton  Lectures, 
with  the  assurance  that  if  he  would  comply  with  the  terms 
of  candidacy  by  sending  in  a  schedule  of  the  lectures  he  pro- 
posed to  give,  there  was  no  doubt  of  his  appointment.  He 
seems  to  have  considered  the  request  for  some  time  before  he 
dismissed  it,  as  is  shown  by  his  note-book,  where  he  went  so 
far  as  to  write  out  an  analysis  for  five  of  the  lectures.  There 
is  a  certain  pathos  and  an  illumination  of  his  whole  career 
in  the  subject  which  he  was  proposing  to  himself.  He  enti- 
tled the  projected  lectures,  the  "Teaching  of  Religion,"  or 
"On  the  Philosophy  of  Religious  Teaching."  But  he  did 
not  complete  the  schedule,  and  finally  wrote  declining  to  be- 
come a  candidate.  Years  later  he  worked  up  some  of  the 
points  in  his  mind  in  an  address  before  the  Twenty  Club 
(1892).1 

The  following  extracts  are  from  his  note-book,  written  while 
he  was  contemplating  the  possibility  of  accepting  Dr.  Jowett's 
invitation :  — 

The  true  symmetry  of  the  Intellectual  and  Spiritual  in  the 

1  Cf.  ante,  p.  537. 


^t.si]         RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  649 

religious  teacher.  The  Seminary  is  the  place  to  produce  it. 
One-sidedness  of  College  and  other-sidedness  of  much  popular 
religious  life;  the  minister  to  restore  the  balance  and  to  learn 
how  in  the  Seminary. 

The  relation  of  religious  teaching  to  the  hard,  knowing  man. 

One  suggestion  about  style.  Never  allow  the  desire  to  es- 
cape awkwardness  or  secure  grace  to  interfere  a  moment  with  the 
purpose  of  it  all,  the  making  of  the  people  understand  and 
feel. 

Like  an  ivy  that  has  been  for  years  growing  on  a  wall,  that  is 
breaking  the  wall  down,  but  that  has  grown  so  completely  a  part 
of  the  wall  that  it  cannot  be  taken  down  without  destroying  the 
wall  another  way,  —  of  excrescent  doctrines  which  have  fastened 
themselves  on  to  religion. 

The  present  tendency  to  reduce  doctrinal  demands.  Shall  we 
insist  on  full  requirements  for  the  sake  of  consistency,  or  reduce 
faith  to  its  barest  terms  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  conciliation? 
Either  implies  a  power  over  truth  which  we  do  not  possess.  No, 
the  duty  of  such  times  as  these  is  to  go  deeper  into  the  spiritual- 
ity of  our  truths.  Instance  the  Everlasting  Punishment  Discus- 
sion not  to  cut  off  the  hard  corners,  but  to  make  them  soft  with 
life. 

The  tendency  of  good  people  to  object  more  to  a  dissenter  than 
to  an  infidel ;  to  hate  another  shade  of  truth  more  than  error. 
(See  Lord  Falkland's  Speech  in  Eushworth,  vol.  iii.) 

The  parental  character  of  all  teaching.  The  parents'  teaching 
is  the  type  of  it. 

The  sense  of  sadness  in  life  as  one  grows  older,  not  wholly  a 
sign  of  the  badness  and  unsatisfactoriness  of  the  world;  partly 
a  mere  regret  at  leaving  what  is  pleasant  even  for  something 
pleasanter.  Landing  from  a  steamer.  Partly  the  sense  of  vast- 
ness,  which  is  always  sad. 

Do  not  make  Heaven  attractive  merely  by  deposing  Earth. 
A  cheap  expedient.  Make  earth  its  richest  and  best,  and  then 
be  able  to  make  heaven  still  higher. 

The  need  of  teaching  sure  religion;  something  definite.  The 
fallacy  of  hoping  to  teach  religion  in  general,  to  inspire  mere 
devotional  feeling. 

Danger  of  disparaging  the  teaching  of  Theology  in  favor  of 
the  teaching  of  religion,  so  called.  It  concentrates  men's 
thoughts  on  man,  and  what  he  is,  not  on  what  God  is.  (Cf. 
Mysticism.)  The  old  question  about  being  damned  for  God's 
glory,  debated  by  Catholics  as  well  as  Puritans.  (Cf.  Fenelon, 
vol.  vi.  pp.  249,  250,  etc.) 


650  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

Study  the  way  in  which  deliberate  beliefs  of  the  cultivated 
pass  into  the  opinions  of  the  people,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  how 
the  common  opinions  are  made  systematic  and  finished  with 
reasons  by  the  learned. 

The  different  temperaments,  intellectual,  mystic,  and  practi- 
cal; the  different  ways  in  which  each  receive  truth.  The  real 
Church  comprehends  all.  Dangers  of  asserting  either  solely  as 
the  office  of  the  Church. 

The  need  often  of  approaching  the  practical  side.  First  soft- 
ening the  ground  with  duty.  Both  ways  are  possible.  Only 
always  the  connection  must  be  natural. 

The  place  of  Ecclesiasticism  in  the  Truth.  Teaching  the  way 
in  which  Partisanship  comes  in.  The  words  of  Sir  T.  Browne 
about  "Founding  a  Heresy."  The  impulse  to  claim  one's  own 
pet  ideas  as  ours,  not  God's.  Paul's  "my  gospel."  The  death, 
then,  of  proportion  in  your  teaching.  Oh,  how  frequent  this  is 
in  ministers !  The  teaching  of  Truth,  of  Truths,  of  The  Truth. 
The  moral  preparation  for  every  spiritual  truth. 

The  vague  talk  about  the  good  in  other  religions  as  if  it  de- 
tracted from  the  value  of  Christ's  teaching. 

The  insincerity  of  method  which  may  go  with  the  most  com- 
plete sincerity  of  idea  and  plan:  "I  believe  this  thoroughly,  and 
would  not  preach  it  a  moment  if  I  didn't,  but  I  will  let  myself 
tell  it  in  false  ways  for  these  people's  sake,  — ways  that  I  don't 
believe  in." 

"The  ink  of  the  learned  is  as  precious  as  the  blood  of  the  mar- 
tyrs." 

God  keeping  some  hemispheres  of  opinion,  as  He  kept  His  half- 
world  of  America  vacant  till  the  old  should  overflow,  — vacant 
till  it  should  be  needed  by  human  growth. 

It  is  the  clear  and  constant  feeling  and  presentation  of  the 
personality  of  the  gospel  that  prevents  its  becoming  monotonous. 
A  person  is  endlessly  interesting.  You  can  tell  men  of  him  for- 
ever, men  who  care  for  him.  But  a  truth  once  stated  is  not  to 
be  forever  repeated.  The  two  things  this  leads  to  in  different 
believers  and  preachers,  —  in  one  dulness ;  in  another,  as  an 
escape  from  that,  fantasticalness. 

Teaching  by  Parables.  That  and  the  God-revelation,  the  points 
of  contact  between  spiritual  and  natural  worlds. 

The  faculty  of  perceiving  what  is  needed ;  the  way  in  which  it 
belongs  to  some  men  and  not  to  others.  The  presence  of  it 
makes  the  good  preacher,  the  lack  of  it  shown  in  men  who  argue 
endlessly  for  nothing.  This  is  the  fault  of  many  preachers. 
Hammering  on  the  iron  for  the  fun  of  the  blows. 


jet.  51]         RELIGIOUS   TEACHING  651 

Use  of  mistakable  and  undefined  words,  as  "coming  to 
Jesus,"  "being  in  Christ,"  or  "out  of  Christ." 

Overstatement  of  experience. 

Relation  of  general  teaching  of  religion  to  advocacy  of  some 
special  hobby,  correcting  of  some  special  evil,  etc.  Danger  of 
relapsing  into  this,  yet  necessity  of  something  of  the  kind. 

The  relation  between  the  whole  and  the  part,  between  religion 
and  our  doctrine,  between  God's  kingdom  and  our  sect.  The 
need  of  a  special  place,  but  of  a  wide  belonging.  The  part 
treated  as  a  part  is  all  right,  as  a  whole  it  is  all  wrong. 

A  thought  provoked  is  worth  ten  thoughts  imparted.  The 
impossibility  of  teaching  religion  in  one  sense.  Religion  as  a 
life,  a  character,  is  to  be  evolved.  The  broader  use  of  the  word 
that  is  regained. 

The  teaching  of  religion  by  art.  Its  history,  its  imperfections 
and  essential  limitations.     Its  need  to-day. 

Jesus  taught  —  by  personal  presentation,  awaking  conscience, 
reaching  truth  on  moral  side,  and  establishing  church  (John  vi.). 
Paul  taught  by  starting  from  old  knowledge.  Address  at  Athens. 
How  many  loaves  ?  John  Baptist  taught  by  convicting  of  sin  and 
arousing  hope.  They  all  went  to  work  to  break  up  dead  satisfac- 
tion, and  create  lively  desire. 

The  way  in  which  people  listen.  We  say  they  listen  stupidly, 
but  really  what  they  want  is  Religion.  The  sifting  power  of  a 
congregation.  It  takes  what  it  comes  for:  if  poetry,  or  science, 
then  that ;   if  religion,  then  that,  throwing  all  else  aside. 

The  way  in  which  means  are  always  healthy  only  with  relation 
to  ends.  Don't  preach  that  people  ought  to  go  to  church;  if  you 
do,  when  they  have  gone  to  church  they  '11  think  that  they  have 
done  everything.  But  make  religion  so  great  and  attractive  that 
they  '11  want  to  go  to  its  headquarters. 

We  have  seen  that  Mr.  Brooks  had  been  interested  by  the 
effort  to  import  into  the  Episcopal  Church  the  methods 
known  as  evangelistic,  giving  his  sanction  to  "  holding  mis- 
sions." When,  therefore,  the  invitation  came  to  him  from 
the  young  men  of  the  Trinity  Club,  an  organization  connected 
with  his  parish,  to  preach  on  Sunday  evenings  at  Faneuil 
Hall  to  the  unchurched  classes,  he  welcomed  the  invitation 
and  prepared  himself,  but  with  inward  perturbation  for  the 
result.  There  was  the  possibility  of  failure,  and  it  might  be 
the  verdict  that  he  could  preach  a  comfortable  gospel  to  those 


652  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

in  easy  circumstances,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  darker,  sadder 
side  of  life,  but  could  not  reach  the  masses  of  men.  The 
experiment  was  hazardous,  for  he  was  putting  his  theology, 
his  religion,  his  life,  to  the  final  test.  Before  and  after  his 
sermons  he  walked  the  streets  of  old  Boston,  where  he  had 
grown  up,  for  inspiration  and  encouragement,  and  then  for 
relief,  —  High  Street,  where  he  was  born,  and  Rowe  Street 
(Chauncy  Street),  where  he  had  grown  from  youth  to  man- 
hood. 

The  first  of  these  Sunday  evening  services  at  Faneuil  Hall 
was  held  on  January  23.  It  had  been  the  task  of  the  Trin- 
ity Club,  of  which  Mr.  Lorin  F.  Deland  was  the  president, 
to  do  all  in  their  power  to  make  the  experiment  successful. 
And  it  required  no  slight  effort  to  prepare  the  way,  to  get 
access  to  the  people  at  the  North  End  in  Boston,  and  make  it 
known  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  preach.  They  were  care- 
ful to  have  it  understood  that  it  was  the  Trinity  Club  which 
initiated  the  movement  and  secured  the  preacher;  that  the 
object  in  view  was  not  a  religious  revival,  but  simply  to  in- 
crease the  range  of  Mr.  Brooks's  influence,  and  to  give  those 
an  opportunity  to  hear  him,  who  were  unable  for  whatever 
reason  to  listen  to  him  at  Trinity  Church.  The  services  were 
announced  some  time  in  advance,  tickets  were  distributed  in 
order  that  those  for  whom  the  services  were  intended  should 
not  be  crowded  out,  as  there  was  danger  might  be  the  case. 
The  presence  of  a  brass  band  was  announced  as  an  attraction, 
as  well  as  the  circumstance  that  there  would  be  "no  collec- 
tion; "  and  a  large  voluntary  choir  was  secured,  including  the 
Harvard  Glee  Club.  So  the  announcement  was  altogether 
a  sensation  ;  the  experiment  was  anticipated  with  unusual 
interest  as  an  event  in  the  ecclesiastical  life  of  Boston. 

We  may  linger  a  moment  on  the  picture  of  these  services 
where  Faneuil  Hall  is  associated  with  the  memory  of  Phillips 
Brooks :  — 

The  sound  of  sacred  chant  [said  the  Boston  Journal]  echoed 
last  night  through  the  streets  around  Faneuil  Hall,  which  the 
hush  of  marketing  had  left  in  lonely  stillness,  and  a  scene  en- 
grossed the  auditorium  which  was  unique  even  in  a  place  that  has 


jet.  51]       FANEUIL   HALL   SERMON  653 

furnished  the  setting  for  so  many  and  varied  pictures.  On  the 
historic  platform,  surrounded  by  a  hundred  singers  and  musicians, 
and  confronted  by  a  strangely  commingled  gathering,  stood  for 
once  a  man  who  was  not  dwarfed  by  the  colossal  impression  of 
Webster  in  the  painting  overhead,  the  notable  rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  Dr.  Phillips  Brooks.  Beyond  a  comparatively  limited 
element,  the  congregation  was  largely  made  up  of  persons  who 
claim  no  church  and  are  claimed  by  none,  —  men  and  women  on 
whom  the  heavy  hands  of  spiritual  and  temporal  asperities  have 
been  laid.  It  was  the  meeting  of  the  Back  Bay  and  the  North 
End.  .  .  .  Religious  services  with  such  surroundings  and  with 
helmeted  policemen  in  conspicuous  force,  as  if  the  menace  of 
civil  authority  was  necessary  to  supplement  the  persuasiveness 
of  the  moral,  presented  a  curious  study ;  but  it  must  be  said  that 
the  secular  guardians  were  not  needed,  as  no  more  attentive  or 
appreciative  congregation  could  have  been  gathered  in  any  church 
in  Boston.  Here  were  pale-faced  men,  with  unkempt  locks  and 
manifest  indications  of  failure  in  life's  high  purposes;  here  indi- 
viduals whose  aspect  bespoke  frequent  relapsing;  young  men  and 
women  who  form  the  floating,  unchurched,  and  aimless  elements 
of  a  large  city;  .  .  .  the  rector  of  Trinity  conducting  a  service 
which  had  no  trace  of  rubric  or  ritual,  and  preaching  in  an  every- 
day garb,  with  no  aid  from  alb  or  stole  or  ecclesiastical  insignia 
whatever.  His  was  manifestly  a  personality  that  needed  none, 
and  as  he  came  forward  upon  the  platform  with  no  manuscript, 
book,  or  pulpit  to  come  between  him  and  his  hearers,  and  spoke 
with  all  the  fervor  and  impetuous  utterance  which  seems  to  be 
a  part  of  his  nature,  there  was  something  in  his  commanding  pre- 
sence that  bespoke  his  hold  upon  their  deferential  attention.  The 
only  question  by  those  who  came  to  study  the  working  out  of  the 
undertaking  was  as  to  whether  he  would  touch  their  feelings  by 
heartfelt  expressions  as  fully  as  he  would  gain  their  admiration 
by  his  eloquence.  But  as  he  proceeded,  all  doubt  on  this  ground 
was  dispelled,  and  the  upturned  and  sympathetic  faces  before  him 
indicated  that  his  searching  appeal  to  the  kindly  and  hopeful  ele- 
ments in  their  nature,  together  with  his  picturing  of  God's 
fatherly  pity  for  the  lowliest  and  most  downcast  of  His  chil- 
dren, had  wrought  an  effect  that  was  worthy  the  effort  and  the 
theme. 

The  text  of  the  sermon  was  a  verse  from  the  Psalms: 
"Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  own  children,  so  the  Lord  piti- 
eth  them  that  fear  him."  The  sermon  meant  so  much  to 
Phillips   Brooks    that   a   few  extracts   from   it   are   given, 


654  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1887 

although  they  must  fall  short  of  revealing  the  power  infused 
with  tenderness  and  love  which  went  into  his  appeal : 1  — 

When  fatherhood  is  spoken  of,  it  means  this  love  which  takes 
the  child  simply  because  it  is  the  child ;  not  because  of  what  the 
child  has  done,  or  what  the  child  is  in  its  character,  but  simply 
because  it  has  been  cradled  in  these  arms  in  its  infancy,  and  all 
the  hopes  and  affections  of  the  parent  have  gathered  around  that 
little  life. 

Underneath  all  the  approbation  or  disapprobation  of  God,  under- 
neath His  approval  or  disapproval  of  what  we  do,  there  is  the 
great,  patient,  indestructible  love  of  God  for  us  because  we  are 
His  children,  the  wickedest  of  us  as  well  as  the  best  of  us,  those 
who  are  living  the  most  upright  life  as  well  as  those  who  are 
living  the  most  profligate  life,  — they  are  all  God's  children. 

If  you  are  ever  going  to  understand  or  to  get  any  conception 
of  that  great  enfolding  life  which  lies  all  around  us,  to  rest  on 
it  and  to  trust  in  it  and  test  its  consolations,  its  encouragements, 
and  its  supports,  the  first  picture  of  it  must  be  in  your  own  house. 
I  almost  hesitate  when  I  talk  to  a  multitude  of  people  such  as 
this,  and  ask  them  to  consider  their  relations  with  regard  to  God 
from  the  way  in  which  their  own  families  are  living.  I  hesitate 
and  draw  back  and  say,  "Do  these  people  want  me  to  talk  to 
them  in  this  way,  to  ask  them  to  understand  that  God  is  to  them 
just  exactly  what  they  are  to  their  own  children  ?  "  I  should 
have  to  look  round  and  think  that  I  saw  better  men  and  women 
than  I  know  that  I  do  see  here  to-night.  "Where  is  the  father 
who  is  willing  to  let  his  child  draw  his  idea  of  God  from  the  way 
in  which  his  fatherly  life  is  related  to  his  child's  life? 

I  am  struck,  and  I  am  sure  you  have  been,  by  the  way  in  which 
people  think  the  basest  moments  of  their  lives  the  real  and  true 
moments,  and  are  not  willing  to  think  of  the  grandest  moments 
in  their  lives  as  the  true  ones.  The  noblest  thing  you  ever  did, 
the  noblest  emotion  you  ever  felt,  the  deepest  and  tenderest  and 
most  self-sacrificing  love  ever  in  your  soul,  that  is  your  true  self 
still,  through  all  the  baser  life  into  which  you  have  fallen. 

Men  are  continually  preached  to  that  they  are  a  great  deal 
wickeder  than  they  think  they  are,  that  they  must  not  value 
themselves  so  much,  that  they  must  not  put  so  high  a  worth  on 
their  humanity.  We  want,  along  with  that,  another  kind  of 
preaching.  Men  are  nobler  than  they  think  themselves  to  be. 
There  is  in  every  man  something  greater  than  he  has  begun  to 

1  Cf.  The  Spiritual  Man,  and  other  Sermons,  London,  1895,  for  a  report  of  the 
sermon. 


jet.  51]      FANEUIL   HALL   SERMON  655 

dream  of.  When  he  gives  himself  to  Jesus  Christ  in  consecra- 
tion, then  that  hegins  to  come  forth.  Break  through  the  cross 
of  your  despair  and  ask  Christ  to  let  you  see  yourself  as  He  sees 
you,  all  stained  with  sin  but  with  the  Divine  image  in  you  all 
the  time. 

The  comments  of  those  present  indicate  that  they  had  been 
surprised  at  the  fine  congregation  of  non -churchgoers  that  had 
assembled  to  hear  Phillips  Brooks.  One  young  man,  not  in 
the  habit  of  going  to  church,  said :  "  These  people,  and  I  live 
among  them,  have  not  been  approached  in  the  right  way,  and 
been  made  to  know  the  true  meaning  of  religion  and  its  place 
in  their  lives  and  homes.  A  preacher  like  Mr.  Brooks  will 
inaugurate  a  new  era  in  their  lives."  An  elderly  man,  who 
confessed  that  he  did  but  "little  in  wearing  out  the  carpets 
in  church  aisles,"  had  gone  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  how 
Mr.  Brooks  would  take  hold  of  workingmen  and  their  fami- 
lies.    This  was  his  verdict :  — 

He  is  in  no  sense  a  revivalist.  He  will  not  excite  the  emo- 
tions of  people,  but  gives  them  a  great  many  sound  things  to 
think  about.  He  gives  practical  religion.  That  is  what  every- 
day men  and  women  want.  That  was  a  very  beautiful  thought 
of  his  that  men  are  apt  to  think  that  they  are  worse  than  they 
are,  and  that  they  should  see  that  the  true  gauge  of  their  char- 
acter is  the  best  that  is  in  them.  This  is  what  shows  a  man  his 
own  possibilities ;  and  the  way  in  which  Dr.  Brooks  spoke  of  the 
pity  of  God  for  those  who  had  fallen  short  of  the  glorious  possi- 
bilities of  their  natures  was  a  helpful  lesson ;  it  kindled  ambition, 
inspired  hope,  and  warmed  the  heart  with  the  love  of  God  for 
His  children.  This  is  what  people  ought  to  hear,  and  this  is  what 
he  is  telling  them. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  inwardly  moved  when  a  man  approached 
him  after  the  service,  thanked  him  for  coming,  and  asked  if 
he  could  recommend  anything  for  his  wife's  rheumatism.  It 
was  the  human  side  of  religion,  as  the  people  in  the  days 
when  Christ  was  on  the  earth,  after  hearing  the  gospel, 
brought  their  sick  to  Him  to  be  healed.  He  promised  the 
man  to  attend  to  his  request. 

On  the  30th  of  January  and  on  the  6th  of  February  Phil- 
lips Brooks  met  the  same  great  audience,  with  no  diminution 


6$6  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

in  attendance  or  interest.  He  preached  great  sermons  also ; 
one  from  the  text,  "He  shall  drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way; 
therefore  shall  he  lift  up  the  head"  (Ps.  ex.  7),  where  he 
dwelt  on  the  sense  of  responsibility  and  the  power  of  the  for- 
giveness of  sins ;  and  another  sermon  from  the  text,  "  Lord,  if 
thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean  "  (Matt.  viii.  2),  when 
the  familiar  words  of  Evangelical  hymns  were  sung  with 
which  both  sermons  were  in  deep  accord,  "  Come,  ye  sinners, 
poor  and  needy,"  and  "  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea." 
There  were  other  efforts  at  this  time  to  reach  the  people,  as 
at  the  Globe  Theatre.  To  these  services  Phillips  Brooks 
went  with  the  same  message  that  he  had  given  in  Faneuil 
Hall,  and  always  met  the  same  large  concourse  of  the  un- 
churched classes,  anxious  and  eager  to  hear  him.  It  seemed 
as  if  a  strong  religious  wave  were  passing  over  Boston. 

During  the  weeks  that  cover  the  sermons  at  Faneuil  Hall, 
Trinity  Church  and  its  rector  were  absorbed  in  efforts  for 
the  extension  of  the  parish  life.  There  had  been  a  mission 
chapel  of  Trinity  from  an  early  period  in  Mr.  Brooks's  min- 
istry in  Boston,  situated  on  Charles  Street,  called  the  Chapel 
of  the  Evangelists.  Municipal  improvements  in  1886  had 
required  the  removal  of  the  building  elsewhere,  and  for  a 
year  the  Mission  had  occupied  rented  rooms  on  Chambers 
Street.  The  Rev.  Reuben  Kidner,  the  assistant  minister  of 
Trinity  Church,  was  demonstrating  by  his  successful  work 
the  need  of  a  permanent  home,  adapted  to  the  growing  neces- 
sities and  opportunities  before  him. 

On  Sunday  morning,  January  9,  1887,  in  Trinity  Church, 
Mr.  Brooks  made  an  appeal  for  $50,000,  to  meet  the  cost  of 
this  project.  For  five  successive  Sundays  he  spoke  of  this  subject 
from  the  pulpit,  mentioning  each  time  the  amount  to  which  the 
subscription  had  risen.  The  people  entered  with  enthusiasm  into 
the  project,  the  interest  of  the  whole  parish  was  engaged,  and 
contributions  came  in  in  sums  varying  from  one  dollar  to  five 
thousand.  Friendly  notes  accompanied  the  gifts,  all  of  which 
Mr.  Brooks  answered  with  his  own  pen,  remarking  that  it  was 
"rather  difficult  to  find  a  new  form  of  words  for  each  note." 

February  the  9th  that  year  fell  on  a  "Wednesday,  and  a  spe- 
cial service  to  commemorate  the  consecration  of  Trinity  Church 


jet.  51]       TENTH  ANNIVERSARY  657 

had  been  appointed  for  the  evening  of  that  day.  The  church  was 
crowded.  The  rector  reached  the  robing-room  some  time  before 
the  service,  to  learn  if  the  full  amount  desired  had  been  received. 
Several  hundred  dollars  were  still  needed,  and  some  prominent 
members  of  the  parish  came  in  and  expressed  their  readiness  to 
make  up  the  full  amount.  But  messages  and  telegrams  kept 
arriving,  and  before  the  service  began  it  was  found  that  the 
$50,000,  with  a  balance  over,  had  been  subscribed. 

This  was  one  of  the  occasions  in  the  life  of  a  parish  which 
bring  before  it  the  work  it  is  doing,  when  minister  and  peo- 
ple feel  more  keenly  the  bond  that  unites  them.  It  was  a 
moment  of  enthusiasm  when  Mr.  Brooks  announced  to  his 
congregation  that  the  amount  called  for  had  been  subscribed. 
Just  as,  ten  years  before,  they  had  built  and  paid  for  the 
most  costly  church  yet  erected  in  New  England,  so  now, 
with  promptness,  they  had  responded  to  his  wish  that  the 
most  elaborate  mission  church  yet  planned  in  this  part  of  the 
country  should  be  their  offering  of  commemoration.  He 
spoke  of  the  work  of  the  parish  during  the  ten  years  in  the 
new  edifice.  His  pride  and  joy  in  Trinity  Church  were  evi- 
dent as  he  reviewed  its  long  history  under  former  rectors, 
until  the  new  edifice  was  built ;  or  as  he  described  the  bright 
day  of  consecration,  how  the  long  procession  of  clergy  came 
up  the  aisles,  the  eloquent  sermon  of  Dr.  Vinton,  and  how 
on  the  Sunday  following,  when  they  had  the  church  to  them- 
selves for  the  first  time,  it  seemed  as  though  they  had  been 

worshipping  there  for  years :  — 
■ 
I  do  not  come  to  you  to-night  with  statistics.  I  have  not 
even  counted  how  many  have  been  baptized  in  these  ten  years, 
how  many  times  the  marriage  service  has  been  performed,  how 
many  times  the  beautiful  burial  service  has  been  read  over  the 
dead,  how  many  of  you  have  been  confirmed.  I  have  not  looked 
to  see;  I  do  not  care.  I  care  more  for  what  these  services  have 
been  to  you  and  to  many  souls.  I  do  know  that  some  have  come 
in  to  them  and  have  gone  out  with  no  change  in  their  faces;  but 
there  has  been  a  change ;  there  is  something  which  they  have  got 
which  they  did  not  have  before  they  came.  I  know  that  many 
of  you  have  been  helped,  that  many  of  you  are  the  better  for 
these  years  of  services  in  this  church.  There  is  one  thing  which 
I  will  tell  you  of,  which  has  been  done  in  these  years.  The  trea- 
vol.  n 


658  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1887 

surer  of  the  church  has  given  me  the  amount  which  has  been  con- 
tributed during  the  past  ten  years  for  charitable  and  missionary- 
purposes,  including  the  contribution  for  the  new  St.  Andrew's 
Church.  It  is  $365,000.  It  is  a  large  amount,  and  a  small 
amount,  — small  when  we  think  of  the  means  which  God  has 
given  us,  and  the  work  to  be  done.  But  it  has  accomplished 
good  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  and  from  time  to  time  we 
hear  of  the  good  that  has  been  wrought. 

It  has  been  our  grief  that  the  great  architect  who  built  our 
church  died  before  it  was  completed.  The  time  will  come  when 
money  will  be  given  to  finish  the  towers  of  the  facade  according 
to  his  plan.  I  am  in  no  hurry  for  it ;  other  work  must  be  done 
first,  but  this,  too,  will  come  in  time.  Far  be  it  from  us  to 
boast  of  what  our  church  has  done,  but  for  some  things  we  can 
be  thankful  that  they  have  been  done  right.  We  welcome  all 
those  who  come  to  worship  with  us.  I  know  how  heartily,  and 
often  at  no  little  inconvenience  to  yourselves,  this  welcome  has 
been  given.  There  has  not  yet  been  turned  away  a  person  from 
our  doors  when  there  was  a  seat  for  him  to  occupy. 

And  as  your  minister,  may  I  thank  you  for  your  help  and 
sympathy  during  these  years  ?  You  have  made  my  task  anything 
but  a  burden.  As  our  church  has  grown  and  duties  have  in- 
creased, it  has  been  impossible  to  keep  up  the  personal  inter- 
course which  we  had  together  in  the  first  years.  I  appreciate 
the  patience  which  you  have  shown  to  me.  "When  a  person  gives 
up  his  whole  life  to  such  work,  trying  not  to  refuse  to  any  the 
aid  which  he  may  be  able  to  give,  I  think  he  may  still  ask  for 
continued  patience.  I  ask  that  you  will  bear  with  me  in  the 
future.  We  are  thankful  for  the  past  years,  but  we  want  to 
make  the  coming  years  fuller  and  better,  to  consecrate  ourselves 
more  fully  to  God,  and  do  more  earnest  work  for  Him. 

Everything  that  Phillips  Brooks  now  did  or  wrote  was 
permeated  with  an  increasing  depth  of  tender  feeling.  He 
was  illustrating  the  truth  of  the  remark  that  no  one  can 
think  profoundly  who  does  not  feel  deeply.  This  was  shown 
alike  in  his  sermons  and  in  his  letters.  He  was  still  despond- 
ent about  the  church,  for  he  had  been  inwardly  hurt  by  the 
movement  to  change  its  name.  This  despondency,  it  will  be 
seen,  appears  in  his  letters.  When  he  went  to  Andover,  on 
January  4,  to  preach  the  sermon  at  the  consecration  of  the 
new  Episcopal  Church,  he  made  it  an  opportunity  for  assert- 
ing more  positively  the  faith  that  was  in  him.     Throughout 


jet.  51]       SERMON  AT  ANDOVER  659 

the  sermon  glowed  the  intensity  of  his  emotions.     He  spoke 
of  the  place  of  the  Episcopal  Church  in  the  Puritan  town :  — 

Long  before  our  Church  came  here  this  was  a  distinctly  reli- 
gious town.  The  Church  of  Christ  in  other  forms,  the  experience 
of  Christ  in  other  forms,  in  deep  reality  was  here.  ...  It  is 
not  in  arrogant  presentation  of  herself  as  the  only  Church  of 
Christ  to  which  this  old  religiousness  must  conform  before  it  can 
be  really  churchly.  God  forbid !  It  is  as  one  distinct  and  valu- 
able form  of  Christian  thought  and  life  —  as  one  contribution  to 
the  Church  of  the  future  which  is  to  be  larger,  deeper,  wiser, 
holier,  than  any  Church  existing  in  the  land  to-day. 

The  subject  of  the  sermon,  and  the  occasion,  led  to  char- 
acteristic utterances  regarding  the  nature  of  the  Church,  its 
worship  and  ordinances :  — 

The  Church  is  no  exception  and  afterthought  in  the  world, 
but  is  the  survival  and  preservation  of  the  world's  first  idea,  — 
the  anticipation  and  prophecy  of  the  world's  final  perfectness. 
The  Church  of  Christ  is  the  ideal  humanity.  Say  not  that  it 
leaves  out  the  superhuman.  I  know  no  ideal  humanity  that  is 
not  filled  and  pervaded  with  the  superhuman.  God  in  man  is 
not  unnatural,  but  the  absolutely  natural.  That  is  what  the 
Incarnation  makes  us  know. 

The  Church  is  the  most  truly  human  institution  in  the  world, 
—  the  Church  building  is  the  most  human  institution  in  the 
town.  Here  in  Andover,  your  shops,  your  houses,  your  stables, 
your  taverns,  your  library,  your  girls'  school,  your  boys'  school, 
your  seminary,  —  they  all  mean  something  human.  But  the 
Church  has  the  best*  reason  for  being  of  them  all.  It  means  the 
most  human  thing  of  all,  the  truest  human  fact  of  all  facts,  that 
man  intrinsically  and  eternally  belongs  to  God. 

This  strong  conception  of  its  life  must  pervade  its  architecture. 
No  heavy  and  oppressive  darkness,  overwhelming  the  soul  with 
fear,  and  making  it  want  to  lose  itself  in  the  unearthly  gloom; 
but  broad  simplicity  and  ample  light,  and  all  the  freshness  and 
sweetness  of  the  beautiful  world,  taken  up,  glorified,  and  trans- 
lated. 

And  so  of  the  Church's  services.  They  must  be  human.  They 
must  be  uttered  in  the  vernacular,  not  merely  of  the  local  speech, 
but  of  the  human  soul.  They  must  be  full  of  hope,  not  of  dread. 
They  must  make  man  respect  and  not  despise  his  essential  self. 
They  must  show  him  his  sin  by  making  him  see  the  glory  of  his 
intention  and  his  destiny.     They  must  humiliate  his  intellect  by 


660  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

displaying  the  infiniteness  of  truth,  and  not  by  declaring  the 
sinfulness  of  error. 

Whatever  mystic  richness  must  belong  to  the  Church's  two 
perpetual  sacraments,  warm  forever  with  the  touch  of  the  very 
hands  of  the  dear  Lord,  deepened  and  filled  with  the  countless 
holy  experiences  of  countless  souls,  they  must  be  ever  pervaded, 
not  in  contradiction  or  in  diminution,  but  in  increase  of  their 
sacredness,  by  the  simplicity  and  humanity  which  is  in  their  very 
essence.  The  elemental  substances,  —  water  and  bread  and 
wine,  —  these  keep  the  two  sacraments  forever  broad  and  true. 
It  is  through  earth's  most  common  substances  that  Christ,  the 
Son  of  man,  symbolically  gives  Himself  to  man.  The  stream, 
the  field,  the  vineyard,  have  their  essential  sacredness  declared 
in  those  deep,  venerable  words,  "Baptize  all  nations."  "This  is 
My  Body."      "This  is  My  Blood." 

The  Church  whose  fundamental  truth  is  the  essential  sacred- 
ness of  man  must  hold  its  doctrines  humanly.  ...  It  will  be- 
lieve that  no  doctrine  has  been  truly  revealed  until  the  human 
consciousness  has  recognized  its  truth.  It  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  false  awe  of  the  Credo  quia  impossibile.  The  truths 
of  heaven  and  the  truths  of  earth  are  in  perfect  sympathy;  every 
revelation  of  the  Bible  is  clearer  the  more  it  is  to  be  found  in  the 
speaking  conscience,  or  in  the  utterance  of  history,  or  in  the 
vocal  rocks. 

The  real  authority  of  man  to  speak  to  brother  man  must  rest 
in  personal  qualities  and  conditions.  It  is  truth  which  cannot  be 
carried  save  by  the  believing  soul.  It  is  fire  which  can  only  be 
carried  by  the  lighted  torch.  It  is  God  who  can  only  shine 
through  a  soul  luminous  and  transparent  with  His  own  divinity. 
Behind  all  other  authorities  lies  forever  the  first  authority  of 
intelligence  and  sympathy  and  consecration.  Without  that  all 
other  authorities  are  worthless.  With  that,  no  man  may  dispar- 
age any  ministry,  however  simple  and  unelaborate  that  ministry 
may  be  in  other  things. 

To  the  Be  v.  W.  N.  McVickar,  who  was  going  abroad, 
he  writes :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  8,  1887. 

It  is  sad  enough  to  think  that  before  another  Saturday  a  big 
piece  of  the  ocean  will  be  between  us,  and  that  for  months  there 
will  be  no  chance  of  setting  eyes  on  you.  My  heart  will  be  on 
board  the  Eider  with  you  next  Wednesday.  You  will  not  see  it, 
but  it  will  be  there.  It  will  climb  the  Pyramids  with  you  (if 
you  really  do  go  up  to  the  top).      It  will  sit  with  you  on  the 


jet.  51]       EXTRACTS   FROM   LETTERS     661 

Mount  of  Olives,  and  wander  with  you  through  the  bazaars  of 
Damascus.  Be  kind  to  the  old  thing  (I  mean  my  heart),  and 
give  it  now  and  then  a  greeting,  and  tell  it  sometimes  what  a 
good  time  you  are  having. 

Sometimes  upon  the  ocean  think  of  the  happy  days  in  which 
we  stared  together  at  the  waste  of  waters.  Let  the  Servia  come 
up  to  you  out  of  the  dim  past,  with  all  its  ghosts  on  board,  and 
say  something  cheerful  to  them  to  show  them  that  they  are  not 
forgotten  in  your  present  joy. 

How  we  shall  miss  you!  When  Quinquagesima  arrives,  re- 
member Cooper  and  me,  sitting  on  your  doorstep. 

Good-by,  dear  fellow,  and  may  the  God  who  has  been  so  good 
to  us  keep  us  both  until  we  meet  again.      Good-by,  good-by. 

Ever  and  ever  yours,  P.  B. 

To  the  Eev.  Arthur  Brooks,  who  was  making  the  tour  of 
Palestine,  he  writes :  — 

New  York,  Sunday  (Sexageaima),  February,  1887. 
When  you  get  this  we  shall  be  in  the  thick  of  Lent.  Where 
will  you  be  ?  Perhaps  almost  ready  to  keep  Easter  in  Jerusalem 
when  this  arrives.  It  is  good  indeed  to  know  how  much  you  must 
be  enjoying.  Forty  centuries  are  looking  down  upon  you  from  the 
Pyramids  this  blessed  Sunday.  I  wish  I  were  one  of  them,  and 
then  you  could  come  up  my  pyramid  and  we  could  sit  and  talk  it 
all  out,  and  you  could  tell  me  all  that  you  have  done.  I  can 
imagine  something  of  what  has  happened  since  then,  but  at  Cairo 
I  lose  you,  for  I  have  never  been  up  the  Nile,  and  it  is  a  mysteri- 
ous jumble  of  tombs  and  sphinxes  and  pyramids  to  me.  If  you 
see  the  veritable  Barneses,  with  the  magnificent  head,  tell  him  I 
salute  him,  and  am  quite  sure  that  those  Hebrews  must  have  been 
terribly  exasperating  and  disagreeable  people.  How  strange  it 
does  seem  that  out  of  them  should  have  come  the  world's  religion! 

A  new  pulpit  was  at  this  time  placed  in  Trinity  Church,  in 
order  that  Mr.  Brooks  might  be  better  heard  in  some  parts  of 
the  building.  He  had  hitherto  preached  from  a  lecturn,  the 
same  that  he  had  used  in  Huntington  Hall,  originally  asso- 
ciated with  Holy  Trinity  Chapel  in  Philadelphia,  whence 
it  had  been  sent  to  him  as  a  gift,  at  his  own  suggestion. 
What  importance  he  attached  to  the  associations  connected 
with  it  is  evident  from  the  circumstance  that  the  upper  part 
of  this  lecturn  was  fitted  to  the  new  pulpit,  for  a  sermon 
board.     So  he  preserved  the  connection  of  his  years. 


661  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

To  the  Rev.  Charles  D.  Cooper  he  writes  with  reference 
to  the  "Mind  Cure,"  in  regard  to  which  his  opinion  had 
been  misrepresented :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  25, 1887. 
My  dear  Cooper,  —  I  never  heard  of  these  people  who  are 
disturbing  Albany,  and  I  have  no  sympathy  with  their  kind. 
There  is  a  truth  in  the  midst  of  the  fantastic  performances  and 
the  confused  philosophy  of  the  "Mind  Cure,"  but  it  and  the 
notions  which  are  related  to  it  are  capable  of  vast  mischief  in 
the  hands  of  ignorant  and  self-seeking  men  and  women.  Such 
seem  to  be  the  folks  of  whom  you  speak.  May  those  for  whom 
you  care  be  saved  from  them.  I  assure  you  they  have  no  right 
to  quote  me  as  their  endorser. 

An  incident  occurred  at  the  diocesan  convention  in  May 
which  is  characteristic.  In  1886  it  had  been  voted  to  change 
the  rule  of  order  requiring  a  sermon  at  the  opening  of  the 
convention.  When  Mr.  Brooks  heard  of  it  he  was  indignant 
at  the  idea  of  taking  away  the  one  chance  which  a  man  had 
of  preaching  to  his  brethren;  it  seemed  like  abolishing  the 
first  function  of  the  ministry.  At  the  convention  in  1887 
he  moved  that  the  words  be  restored  calling  for  a  sermon 
by  the  appointed  preacher.  He  made  a  short  and  vigorous 
speech  in  behalf  of  his  motion,  and  carried  the  convention 
with  him.  A  member  of  the  convention  writes:  "The  ease 
with  which  he  swung  the  convention  back  to  the  sermon  was 
striking.  I  think  no  debate  followed  his  speech.  We  all  let 
him  have  his  way." 

On  the  8th  of  June  Mr.  Brooks  sailed  in  the  Adriatic  for 
England,  accompanied  by  his  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  William  G. 
Brooks,  and  her  daughter,  Miss  Gertrude  Brooks.  Only  in 
this  respect  did  his  visit  differ  from  previous  ones,  that  he 
was  mainly  concerned  to  put  himself  at  the  disposal  of  the 
ladies,  and  share  in  their  pleasure  at  seeing  what  was  now  so 
familiar  to  him.  That  there  was  no  abatement  of  the  enthu- 
siasm among  his  English  friends  and  admirers  was  evident 
from  the  rush  to  be  early  in  the  field  of  the  candidates  claim- 
ing his  services  as  a  preacher.  One  event  in  England,  the 
Queen's  Jubilee,  now  eclipsed  every  other  in  national  interest 


jet.  51]  IN  ENGLAND  663 

and  importance,  till  it  seemed  almost  natural  to  his  English 
friends  that  Phillips  Brooks  should  be  there  as  ua  loyal  sub- 
ject."    Thus  a  friend  writes  to  him :  — 

The  Queen  will  come  in  great  state  to  the  Abbey.  It  will  be 
a  ceremony  such  as  has  only  occurred  three  times  in  nine  hundred 
years  (Henry  III.,  Edward  III.,  George  III.),  and  will  be  a 
reminiscence  of  the  coronation.  Tickets  of  admission  will  be 
very  hard  to  get.  They  are  given  to  very  few  except  the  Houses 
of  Lords  and  Commons,  courtiers,  and  the  great  ones  of  the 
earth.  But  you  shall  have  a  seat;  I  pledge  myself  to  get  you 
one. 

The  promise  was  kept,  and  on  the  21st  of  June  Mr. 
Brooks  was  present  in  an  eligible  place  in  the  Abbey  to  wit- 
ness the  imposing  and  gorgeous  scene. 

An  English  lady  writes  to  him  this  anecdote  of  childhood 
which  she  thought  would  amuse  him :  — 

A  little  girl,  eight  years  old,  where  I  was  staying  a  short  time 
ago,  observed  to  me  one  day,  — 

"Nearly  all  America  belongs  to  England,  doesn't  it,  Mrs. 
W ?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  dear." 

"I  mean,  nearly  all  the  States  do.  "Well,  if  they  don't,  then 
they  ought  to." 

Mr.  Brooks  preached  but  a  few  times,  for  his  stay  in 
England  was  short,  —  at  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster,  as 
usual,  for  Archdeacon  Farrar;  at  St.  Mark's,  Kennington, 
for  Mr.  Montgomery;  at  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  where  he  met 
Dean  Church.  He  also  preached  at  Crosthwaite  Church,  in 
Keswick,  —  "the  greatest  sermon  Crosthwaite  ever  listened 
to,"  writes  the  vicar.  He  went  down  to  the  East  End  and 
made  a  speech  to  the  workingmen.  Among  the  attractive  invi- 
tations he  was  obliged  to  decline  was  one  from  the  chaplain 
of  the  Royal  Dockyard  Church,  with  its  large  number  of 
English  soldiers  and  their  officers.  He  met,  through  the 
kindness  of  Archdeacon  Farrar,  the  best  men  of  England, 
and  a  large  number  of  the  clergy.  The  Nonconformists  gave 
him  a  warm  welcome,  as  if  he  were  of  their  number.  But  the 
rector  of  a  large  London  church  also  writes  to  him :  "  The 


664  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

secret  by  which  you  make  us  High  Churchmen  enthusiastic 
about  you  remains  unexplained  to  me." 

After  a  few  weeks  in  London,  he  went  with  his  companions 
for  a  journey  in  rural  England,  visiting  cathedrals  and  other 
objects  of  interest,  and  on  the  19th  of  July  left  England,  as 
he  writes,  "for  the  old  commonplace  Continental  journey,  — 
Brussels,  Cologne,  the  Rhine,  Heidelberg,  the  Tyrol,  Venice, 
Milan,  Switzerland,  Paris,  —  all  old  and  delightful,  but  no 
longer  with  the  charm  of  novelty."  He  continued  to  show 
himself  a  restless  traveller,  impatient  to  be  moving,  unwilling 
to  be  idle  when  there  was  anything  to  be  done ;  but  chiefly 
anxious  for  the  friends  who  were  with  him,  giving  them  no  rest 
in  his  desire  to  show  them  what  ought  to  be  seen.  Among 
his  few  letters,  this  one  to  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine  tells 
that  the  new  St.  Andrew's  was  uppermost  in  his  mind :  — 

Schloss  Hotel,  Heidelberg,  July  24,  1887. 

My  dear  Bob,  —  Here  we  are  for  another  Sunday,  where  the 
great  party  spent  the  larger  part  of  a  Sunday  now  two  years  ago. 
Do  you  remember  it?  It  all  comes  back  most  vividly  here,  as 
indeed  it  has  all  along  the  route.  I  expect  to  hear  scraps  of 
George's  Journal  lingering  among  the  echoes  of  the  corridors, 
and  to  meet  Ethel  coming  out  of  a  mediaeval  doorway,  and  to 
find  Lily  wherever  there  is  a  stray  dog.  I  wish  indeed  that  I 
could  call  you  all  up  in  actual  presence  as  well  as  in  imagination. 
What  a  Sunday  we  would  have !  For  the  day  is  perfection,  and 
the  great  outlook  was  never  lovelier. 

Your  letter,  which  I  was  very  glad  indeed  to  get  this  week, 
made  me  see  you  all  at  home,  dining  on  the  terrace,  and  keeping 
the  Fourth  of  July.  It  was  a  pretty  picture.  I  wish  I  had 
been  there.  And  then  came  your  very  interesting  account  of 
the  discussions  about  the  new  chapel,  and  your  delightful  archi- 
tectural drawings,  which  gave  me  such  a  clear  idea  of  how  it 
ought  to  be  done  and  how  it  ought  not  to  be  done.  It  would 
have  made  a  very  interesting  summer  if  I  could  have  been  at 
home  and  talked  all  these  things  over  with  you  all.  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  I  like  the  largeness  of  your  ideas.  Many  a  time, 
in  these  last  twenty  years,  you  have  saved  us  from  doing  things 
on  a  small  scale,  and  kept  us  large.  We  never  shall  forget  —  I 
hope  history  will  not  let  it  be  forgotten  —  that  we  owe  it  to  you 
that  Trinity  Church  is  big  and  dignified,  and  not  a  little  thing  in 
a  side  street,  which  one  must  hunt  to  find,  and  think  small  things 
of  when  he  has  found  it. 


From  Mrs.  Whitman' 's  Portrait 


jet.  51]  CORRESPONDENCE  66$ 

And  now,  St.  Andrew's.  Let  that  be  conceived  as  generously 
as  possible.  Let  there  be  nothing  mean  about  it.  If  we  need 
more  money  let  us  get  it.  Let  us  make  it  a  home  of  which 
neither  rich  nor  poor  need  be  ashamed.  Let  us  anticipate  vastly 
more  of  work  and  life  than  we  at  present  have  to  put  in  it.  In 
all  this  I  am  with  you  heartily.  The  main  hall  of  the  parish 
building,  I  believe,  will  be  above  all  our  expectations  in  its  use- 
fulness, —  a  sort  of  Palace  of  Delight,  like  the  one  we  read 
about  in  London  four  years  ago,  and  which  I  saw  in  its  partial 
realization  the  other  day.  It  may  be  made  the  centre  of  all 
sorts  of  good  influences  for  that  whole  region.  Oh,  that  I  could 
see,  on  the  18th  of  September,  as  I  turn  into  Chambers  Street, 
the  chaste  and  elegant  facade  of  a  finished  building  all  ready 
for  its  work,  with  Kidner  waving  a  St.  Andrew's  flag  upon  the 
doorstep,  and  the  crowd  waiting  for  the  blessing  at  the  open  win- 
dows !  I  shall  not  quite  see  that,  but  something,  I  am  sure,  will 
have  been  done,  and  there  is  time  left  yet  before  we  die  and  other 
people  are  to  follow  us  and  take  up  what  we  leave  undone. 

I  only  wish  I  felt  more  sure  about  this  Church  of  ours,  the 
Episcopal  Church,  I  mean.  I  wish  it  looked  more  as  if  it  meant 
to  be  sensible  and  simple  and  rational  and  ready  for  the  best  sort 
of  work.  It  looks  to  me  now  very  much  as  if  it  meant  to  go  on 
to  stiffer  and  stronger  ecclesiasticism,  and  might,  in  time,  become 
a  place  in  which  it  would  be  difficult  if  not  impossible  to  work. 
Perhaps  not;  and  meanwhile,  I  see  nothing  to  do  except  to  press 
on  and  keep  her  as  good  and  strong  and  sensible  as  we  can,  but 
there  would  be  a  stronger  confidence  about  it  all  if  she  would 
only  behave  better.  There  seemed  to  me  to  be  very  much  in 
England  which  looked  the  same  way. 

But,  however  that  may  be,  there  will  be  some  good  result 
somewhere  of  all  good  work.  That  is  the  comfort  which  one 
falls  back  on  more  and  more,  and  I  begrudge  all  the  time  now 
that  I  take  out  of  the  few  years  which  remain  for  work  at  home. 
Even  when  it  brings  one  to  Heidelberg,  which  is  as  beautiful  as 
a  dream  this  hot  Sunday  afternoon.  The  music  of  a  profane 
band  comes  floating  through  the  trees,  and  there  are  those  deli- 
cious old  red  walls,  with  the  breaks  in  them  just  at  the  right 
places,  and  down  below  the  brown-roofed  town,  and  the  silver 
Neckar  wandering  through  it.  You  know  it  all,  and  it  is  so  full 
of  the  associations  of  '85  that  I  feel  as  if  you  all  were  here. 
Would  that  you  were ! 

I  hope  you  all  are  well  and  happy.  To  know  that  any  of  your 
flock  were  unhappy  would  make  me  so,  too.  I  shall  track  your 
footprints  in  the  waters  of  the  Grand  Canal,  and  on  the  rocks  of 


666  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1887 

Wengern  Alp,  and  it  will  be  pleasant  when  I  take  you  by  the 
hand  again  on  your  own  porch.  I  send  my  love  to  Mrs.  Paine 
and  Edith  and  John  and  Emily  and  Robert  and  Ethel  and  George 
and  Lily,  and  am,  ever  and  ever, 

Affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 

When  the  party  of  travellers  reached  Geneva,  Phillips 
Brooks  was  called  to  know  personally  what  physical  suffer- 
ing meant  in  one  of  its  most  intense  forms,  in  consequence 
of  a  felon  which  had  formed  on  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand. 
It  indicated  some  weakness  in  his  constitution,  —  a  physical 
correspondent,  perhaps,  to  the  inward  depression  which  hung 
about  him.  From  the  conscious  knowledge  of  pain  he  had 
hitherto  been  exempt  through  all  his  years  beyond  an  occa- 
sional headache  in  his  youth.  To  his  friends  who  accompa- 
nied him  he  now  seemed  to  bear  it  with  heroic  patience.  Pain 
is  a  great  leveller,  yet  despite  well-nigh  unendurable  agony 
he  preserved  his  integrity.  For  weary  days  and  sleepless 
nights  he  continued  to  suffer  and  endure.  He  was  besought 
to  call  in  a  physician,  but  he  persistently  refused,  waiting  in 
the  vain  hope  that  the  throbbing  pain  would  subside,  reluctant, 
indeed,  to  admit  that  he  could  not  overcome  by  strength  of 
will  an  aberration  of  nature  which  by  the  divine  order  should 
be  subject  to  man.  At  last  he  had  almost  waited  too  long. 
When  the  physician,  Dr.  Binet,  of  Geneva,  was  summoned, 
he  was  alarmed  as  he  looked  at  the  finger,  and  at  once,  exam- 
ining the  arm,  found  that  it  contained  symptoms  of  disease  so 
dangerous  that  he  despaired  of  saving  it.  Just  before  the 
finger  was  cut  open,  Dr.  Binet  advised  him  to  take  chloroform ; 
he  declined  it ;  to  his  request  that  he  might  light  a  cigar  the 
physician  consented,  and  he  held  the  cigar  in  his  mouth  dur- 
ing the  operation:  "There  was  a  moment,"  said  Dr.  Binet, 
"when  he  did  n't  draw."  These  incidents  were  communi- 
cated to  the  Eev.  Leighton  Parks  by  Dr.  Binet  himself. 
When  Phillips  Brooks  was  asked  afterwards  about  the  extent 
of  his  suffering,  he  would  say  that  he  knew  of  no  standard 
by  which  the  relative  degrees  of  pain  could  be  measured. 
He  only  knew  that  "it  throbbed."  Hitherto  disease  had 
been  something  so  far  away  that  it  seemed  at  times  to  those 


at.  51]  CORRESPONDENCE  667 

who  heard  him  refer  to  the  subject  as  if  he  scorned  it  for  a 
personal  infirmity.  He  was  quoted  as  saying  that  he  hated 
sickness.  "All  the  sickness  that  I  see  does  not  make  sick- 
ness seem  a  bit  easier  or  more  natural,  and  my  wonder  at 
the  patience  of  sick  people  grows  with  every  day  of  my  life." 
The  injury  to  his  hand  prevented  Mr.  Brooks  for  some 
time  from  the  use  of  his  pen,  and  no  letters  record  his  move- 
ments. On  the  18th  of  September,  he  was  again  at  his  post 
in  Trinity  Church,  and  had  resumed  his  connection  with 
Harvard  University.  In  October  he  went  to  the  Church 
Congress  at  Louisville,  Kentucky,  where  he  made  a  sensa- 
tion by  his  speech  on  the  apostolical  succession,  stating  his 
position  with  the  emphasis  and  vigor  which  church  congresses 
are  apt  to  engender.  There  were  hisses  in  the  hall  as  he 
spoke.  It  shows  the  ecclesiastical  ire  he  aroused,  that  a 
prominent  layman  who  heard  him  remarked  it  would  have 
been  a  pleasure  to  assist  in  throwing  him  into  the  Ohio 
River.  Again  the  speaker's  words  were  caught  up  and  car- 
ried throughout  the  country.  No  record  of  the  speech 
remains,  however,  for  the  records  of  this  congress  perished 
by  some  accident  in  the  flames.  There  is  one  brief  allusion 
to  the  subject  in  a  letter  written  by  Mr.  Brooks  after  his 
return  to  Boston,  October  27,  1887 :  — 

Only  last  night  did  I  get  back  from  this  ecclesiastical  junket, 
which  began  with  the  Congress  in  Louisville,  and  ended  with  the 
ministerial  council  in  Philadelphia.  The  congress  was  ugly,  but 
the  saints  had  good  rooms  at  the  hotels,  and  there  were  enough 
of  them  to  praise  each  other's  speeches. 

With  one  other  letter  this  phase  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Brooks 
comes  to  an  end,  and  he  no  longer  felt  it  incumbent  on  him 
to  pursue  the  subject.  Three  times  he  had  spoken  his  mind 
with  all  the  fiery  energy  of  his  nature,  —  at  the  General 
Convention  in  1886,  at  Trinity  Church,  and  in  the  Church 
Congress.  He  had  made  his  position  known,  so  that  there 
could  be  no  doubt  where  he  stood.  In  this  letter  to  Dr. 
Dyer,  for  many  years  the  trusted  and  honored  leader  of  the 
Evangelical  school  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  he  shows  him- 
self still  despondent,   and   expresses  his  misgivings.     The 


668  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1887 

letter  is  of  further  importance  because  he  avows  that  he  no 
longer  holds  the  dogmatic  theology  known  as  Evangelical. 

233  Clabendon  Street,  Boston,  November  19,  1887. 

Dear  Db.  Dyer,  — It  does  me  good  to  hear  your  blessed 
voice  again.  Old  scenes  come  trooping  up  with  the  sight  of  your 
handwriting,  and  I  am  a  youngster  again,  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
my  elders  and  betters.  Yes,  I  will  be  an  officer  of  the  Church 
Missionary  Society  if  they  want  me  to,  — most  of  all,  if  you 
want  me  to,  — but  it  will  not  save  the  Church.  Nothing  will 
save  it,  I  fear.  It  is  fast  on  the  way  to  become  a  small,  fantas- 
tic sect,  aping  foreign  ways,  and  getting  more  and  more  out  of 
sympathy  with  the  great  life  of  the  country.  I  am  sorry  indeed, 
but  I  cannot  think  anything  else.  Look  at  the  West  and  see 
what  our  Church  means  there.  Where  are  the  dioceses  that  you 
strove  to  build  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago?  Well,  well,  the 
work  will  be  done  by  somebody,  even  if  our  Church  refuses  to  do 
it.      But  what  a  chance  we  had! 

I  know  no  better  place  to  work,  and  so  I  work  on  still  in  the 
old  Church,  growing  more  and  more  out  of  conceit  with  organi- 
zations, —  more  and  more  sure  that  the  dogmatic  theology  in 
which  I  was  brought  up  was  wrong,1  but  more  and  more  anxious 
for  souls  and  eager  to  love  God  every  year.  The  old  days  when 
we  haunted  Dr.  Vinton's  study  and  hammered  out  Constitutions 
for  the  Divinity  School  in  Philadelphia,  and  took  breakfast  with 
the  Volanses,  look  very  bright,  but  far  away  and  very  young. 
Those  days  were  earlier,  but  these  are  happier,  —  and,  on  the 
whole,  the  larger  hopes  which  live  on  Christ  and  expect  Him  to 
do  His  work  in  His  own  way  are  more  inspiring  even  than  the 
hopes  we  used  to  have  for  E.  K.  S.  and  E.  E.  S. 

1  The  points  on  which  Mr.  Brooks  recognized  his  divergence  from  the  dog- 
matic theology  in  which  he  had  been  brought  np  were  these  :  1.  Its  view  of 
baptism  as  a  covenant.  2.  Its  literal  theory  of  inspiration  and  its  conception  of 
Scripture  as  a  whole.  3.  Its  separation  between  things  secular  and  sacred ; 
its  failure  to  recognize  truth  in  other  religions  and  in  non-Christian  men ;  its  in- 
difference to  intellectual  culture.  4.  Its  tendency  to  limit  the  church  to  the 
elect.  5.  Its  view  of  salvation  as  escape  from  endless  punishment.  6.  Its  in- 
sistence upon  the  necessity  of  acknowledging  a  theory  of  the  Atonement  in 
order  to  salvation.  7.  Its  insufficient  conception  of  the  Incarnation  and  of  the 
Person  of  Christ.  8.  Its  tendency  to  regard  religion  too  much  as  a  matter  of 
the  emotions  rather  than  of  character  and  will.  And  yet  he  regarded  these 
divergences  as  the  accidents  of  the  Evangelical  theology,  not  its  essence,  which 
lay  in  devotion  to  the  Person  of  Christ.  In  his  deep  harmony  with  this  feature 
of  Evangelical  teaching,  he  seemed  to  remain  at  heart  an  Evangelical  to  the 
end. 


mt.  5 1]  CORRESPONDENCE  669 

I  am  glad,  indeed,  to  know  you  are  so  strong  and  well.  How 
I  would  like  to  see  you  again.      God  help  you  always. 

Affectionately  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  the  Rt.  Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter  he  writes,  expressing  his 
dislike  in  a  satirical  way  for  the  over-valuation  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal domesticities :  — 

233  Clarendon  Stkeet,  Boston,  November  26, 1887. 

No,  my  dear  Henry,  I  will  not  go  back  on  what  I  wrote,  or 
what  the  "  Evening  Post  "  says  that  I  wrote,  which  is  the  same 
thing. 

I  conceive  the  trimming  of  the  altar,  the  cleaning  of  the  can- 
dlesticks, the  cutting  out  of  artificial  flowers,  and  the  darning  of 
the  sacramental  linen  to  be,  on  the  whole,  the  noblest  occupation 
of  the  female  mind,  the  very  crown  and  glory  of  the  parish  work 
of  women.  They  correspond  exactly  to  the  sublime  work  of 
showing  strangers  to  seats  and  playing  checkers  with  loafers  at 
the  reading  room,  which  is  what  we  have  canonized  as  men's 
work  in  the  same  parish.  How  beautiful  they  both  are!  How 
worthy  of  the  male  and  female  topstones  of  Creation! 

And  will  you  stay  with  me  when  you  come  on  January  22,  to 
preach  for  Parks  and  at  Cambridge  ?  I  shall  be  very  glad  and 
grateful  if  you  will. 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

On  November  26  Mr.  Brooks  laid  the  corner  stone  of  the 
new  St.  Andrew's  Church,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  number 
of  people.  He  followed  at  this  time  with  deep  interest  the 
task  of  Ramabai,  then  in  this  country,  in  behalf  of  her 
Hindu  sisters.  He  had  the  pleasure  of  welcoming  as  his 
guest  Professor  James  Bryce,  for  whose  work  he  had  great 
admiration.  On  his  fifty-second  birthday  he  wrote  this  let- 
ter to  Mrs.  Robert  Treat  Paine :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  13,  1887. 
Dear  Mrs.  Paine,  —  I  want  to  write  a  word  before  the 
birthday  closes,  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  word  and  the  bright 
flowers  which  made  the  birthday  possible  to  bear.  You  and  yours 
will,  I  know,  stand  by  me  to  the  end,  and  give  me  your  friend- 
ship till  I  get  safely  through. 

God  bless  you  for  all  you  have  been  to  me  all  these  years. 
Affectionately  yours, 

Phillips  Brooks. 


CHAPTER  XX 

1888 

RAILWAY  ACCIDENT  IN  PHILADELPHIA.  INCIDENTS  OF 
PARISH  LIFE.  LENTEN  SERVICES.  CORRESPONDENCE. 
SENTIMENT  AND  SENTIMENTALITY.  COMMENTS  ON  "ROB- 
ERT ELSMERE."      THANKSGIVING  SERMON 

In  the  summer  of  the  previous  year  Phillips  Brooks  had 
experienced  the  intensity  of  physical  pain.  In  the  first 
month  of  this  new  year  he  encountered  the  vision  of  sudden 
death.  This  was  the  report  which  startled  Boston  on  the 
morning  of  January  27,  as  it  was  read  in  the  newspapers :  — 

The  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  of  Boston,  the  Rev.  William  N. 
McVickar,  rector  of  Holy  Trinity  Church,  the  Rev.  C.  D. 
Cooper,  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles,  and  Miss 
McVickar,  sister  of  Dr.  McVickar,  narrowly  escaped  being  killed 
last  evening. 

Dr.  Brooks  had  come  on  from  Boston  to  visit  his  many  friends 
in  this  city  [Philadelphia],  and  to  assist  at  the  opening  of  the  new 
chapel  of  the  Holy  Communion,  at  Twenty-seventh  and  Wharton 
streets.  He  was  at  the  residence  of  Rev.  Dr.  Cooper,  No.  2026 
Spruce  Street,  during  the  afternoon,  and  later  in  the  evening  Rev. 
Dr.  McVickar,  with  his  sister,  called  in  a  carriage  for  the  reverend 
gentlemen  to  convey  them  to  the  chapel. 

So  bad  was  the  condition  of  the  icy  streets  that  the  driver  had 
difficulty  in  keeping  his  horses  on  their  feet.  It  was  just  7.45 
o'clock  when  they  got  to  Greenwich  Street,  and  the  driver  turned 
his  horses'  heads  to  cross  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad.  The  spot 
is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  in  the  city,  the  high  walls  of  the 
Arsenal  building  almost  shutting  the  trains  from  the  view  of 
drivers  of  vehicles.  The  safety  gate  was  not  shut  in  consequence 
of  its  being  so  encrusted  with  ice  that  it  could  not  be  worked. 
The  driver,  seeing  that  the  gate  was  open,  and  not  seeing  or 
hearing  an  approaching  train,  drove  upon  the  tracks.  Hardly 
had  those  in  the  carriage  seen  the  dazzling  headlight  of  the  engine 
before  it  was  upon  them,  catching  up  the  heavy  carriage  like  an 


jet.  52]         RAILWAY   ACCIDENT  671 

eggshell,  overturning  it  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  crushing 
a  great  hole  in  the  side  where  it  had  struck. 

The  occupants  were  thrown  headlong  to  one  side  of  the  car- 
riage. Dr.  Brooks  was  partly  covered  hy  the  deTjris.  Along 
the  track  for  fifty  yards  the  engine  pushed  the  cab  and  its  af- 
frighted occupants  before  it  could  be  stopped.  The  engineer  had 
seen  the  carriage  before  the  locomotive  struck  it,  and  he  at  once 
reversed  the  lever.  Had  not  this  been  done  it  is  probable  that 
some  if  not  all  of  the  occupants  would  have  been  killed. 

Ready  hands  came  to  the  rescue  and  helped  the  members  of 
the  party  out  of  their  perilous  position.  Rev.  Dr.  Cooper  and 
Miss  McVickar  had  been  thrown  violently  against  the  side  of  the 
cab.  Dr.  McVickar  was  covered  with  broken  glass  and  wood, 
and  across  Dr.  Brooks's  breast  rested  a  heavy  axletree.  All 
considered  their  escape  from  instant  death  as  marvellous.  The 
driver  fared  worst.  He  was  hurled  from  his  box  to  the  ground, 
and  lay  last  night  in  a  semi-conscious  condition. 

The  delay  in  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  the  chapel  caused  some 
alarm,  and  a  carriage  was  sent  in  search  of  them.  The  searchers 
found  the  clergymen  by  the  railroad  tracks,  and  conveyed  them 
to  the  chapel,  where  the  services  proceeded  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

A  lady  in  Philadelphia,  upon  whom  Mr.  Brooks  was  call- 
ing the  day  after  the  accident,  took  down  the  words  in  which 
he  referred  to  it.  He  rose  from  his  chair,  paced  the  floor, 
and,  with  his  face  aglow  with  deep  emotion,  said :  "  I  was  not 
the  least  afraid  to  go ;  I  know  there  are  beautiful  things  God 
has  to  show  us  in  the  other  world;  but,  I  want  to  live  to 
see  what  He  has  to  show  us  that  is  beautiful  and  wonderful 
in  the  coming  century  in  this  world." 

The  following  letters  of  Mr.  Brooks  relate  to  the  accident, 
written  to  his  friends  McVickar,  Cooper,  and  Strong :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  31, 1888. 
Oh,  my  dear  William,  you  do  not  know  the  good  which  your 
letter  has  done  me.  If  you  did,  you  would  be  glad  all  your  life 
for  the  blessed  hour  in  which  you  wrote  it.  I  have  had  all  my 
share  of  happiness,  and  more.  I  have  had  friends  such  as  are 
given  to  few  men,  and  they  have  been  constant  and  faithful  to 
me  in  a  way  that  fills  me  with  gratitude  and  wonder  when  I  think 
of  it ;  but  life  is  pretty  lonely,  after  all,  and  so,  when  one  of  the 
oldest  of  the  oldest  of  one's  friends  says  kind,  good  things  like 


672  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1888 

this,  it  sort  of  breaks  me  down,  and  I  am  glad,  like  a  true  awk- 
ward Bostonian,  that  you  are  not  here  to  see  how  much  I  feel  it ; 
hut  you  must  know  how  much  you  have  been  to  me  all  these  long 
years,  and  how  much  it  is  to  me,  even  although  I  see  you  so 
seldom,  to  know  that  you  give  me  a  thought  sometimes,  and  care 
how  I  am  faring. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  February  1, 1888. 

Dear  Cooper,  —I  got  to  New  York  safe,  and  found  Arthur 
interested  in  the  accident  and  told  the  story  there,  and  the  next 
morning  took  the  train  here,  and  arrived  home  last  night,  or 
rather  in  the  afternoon  at  three  o'clock.  James  Franks  was  wait- 
ing at  the  train,  and  he  and  Sallie  and  I  dined  at  William's, 
where  we  told  the  tale  again,  and  gave  thanksgiving  round  the 
family  table.  This  morning  lots  of  people  called,  and  I  felt 
amazed  and  overcome  to  find  how  much  people  cared  whether  I 
lived  or  died. 

And  so  the  thing  goes  into  history,  and  we  are  safe  for  some 
years  more  of  work.  God  knows  how  many!  The  more  the 
whole  event  takes  possession  of  me,  the  more  I  am  willing  to 
leave  it  all  to  Him,  sure  that  it  would  have  been  all  right  if  He 
had  called  us  then,  and  sure,  too,  that  every  week  of  work  He 
still  allows  us  is  a  privilege. 

I  think  of  you  constantly ;  may  you  be  richly  helped  and  sup- 
ported in  your  loneliness.  Let  me  hear  from  you  when  you  can. 
God  keep  you  safe.  Yours  lovingly, 

P.  B. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  February  2, 1888. 
Dear  George,  —  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  good  letter.  I 
knew  you  would  be  glad  I  was  not  dead,  but  yet  it  was  a  joy  to 
hear  you  say  so,  and  I  read  your  kind  words  more  than  once,  and 
found  great  pleasure  in  them.  Think  of  poor  Cooper,  with  his 
seventy-four  years'  old  bones  and  muscles,  getting  turned  over 
and  over  by  a  locomotive  and  coming  out  marvellously  safe  and 
well,  and  going  on  and  making  his  little  speech  just  as  if  nothing 
had  happened !  Awful  as  it  was,  I  think  the  accident  will  serve 
for  a  diversion  which  will  distract  his  thoughts.  But  no  more 
such  diversions  for  me  in  this  short  life,  please  God ! 

This  marvellous  escape  left  its  uneffaeeable  impression 
upon  Phillips  Brooks.  An  era  in  his  life  seemed  to  date 
from  this  moment,  as  he  gave  himself,  even  more  unre- 
servedly, to  the  demands  of  the  people.  The  Kev.  Leighton 
Parks,  who  spent  several  weeks  with  him  at  the  rectory  in 


jet.  52]  PARISH   INCIDENTS  673 

1888,  relates,  that,  astonished  at  the  frequency  with  which 
the  door  bell  rang,  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  he 
determined  to  keep  a  record,  and  found  that  it  averaged  once 
for  every  five  minutes.  But  Mr.  Brooks  steadfastly  declined 
to  seclude  himself,  or  appoint  hours  when  he  would  be  at 
home  to  callers.  They  wanted  to  see  him,  he  would  answer, 
and  it  might  not  be  possible  or  convenient  for  them  to  come 
at  the  hours  which  he  might  fix.  Any  one  who  went  to  call 
upon  him  at  this  time  would  be  apt  to  find  such  a  situation 
as  this,  —  some  one  waiting  for  him  in  the  reception  room, 
another  in  the  dining  room,  while  he  was  closeted  with  a 
third  in  the  study. 

There  were  fears  lest  his  health  would  suffer ;  indeed  there 
were  symptoms  that  it  had  already  been  impaired,  but  he 
continued  to  give  himself,  as  if  with  the  desperation  of  a 
man  who  felt  that  his  time  was  short,  that  he  must  work 
while  the  day  lasted.  And  there  was  nothing  that  was  so 
much  wanted  of  him  now  as  the  man  himself.  The  Rev. 
Leighton  Parks  further  relates  that  he  had  an  appointment  to 
meet  him  at  the  rectory  at  eight  o'clock  one  evening,  whence 
they  were  to  go  to  a  reception  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Robert 
C.  Winthrop.  Not  till  nearly  eleven  o'clock  did  Mr.  Brooks 
return  to  his  house  to  keep  the  appointment.  He  had  been 
detained  at  a  hospital  by  a  colored  man  who  had  been  in- 
jured in  some  affray  and  had  sent  for  him.  A  physician 
whom  they  met  at  Mr.  Winthrop 's  expressed  some  surprise 
that  Mr.  Brooks  should  not  have  sent  his  assistant,  as  any 
physician  would  have  done.  But  in  spiritual  things  it  must 
be  otherwise,  and  Mr.  Brooks's  reply  was  that  the  man  had 
sent  for  him. 

Another  incident  is  told  by  the  Rev.  Roland  Cotton 
Smith.  A  colored  girl  who  was  dying  sent  for  him  with  a 
verbal  message  through  her  sister.  It  was  Sunday  morning, 
just  as  the  service  at  Trinity  was  beginning.  In  this  case 
Mr.  Brooks  sent  his  assistant,  explaining  why  he  was  unable 
to  come.  But  the  assistant  returned  with  the  message  that 
the  girl  had  declared  she  would  not  die  until  he  came. 
When  the  service  was  over  Mr.  Brooks  himself  went  accord- 

VOL.  11 


674  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

ing  to  the  request,  with  the  intention  of  administering  the 
Communion.  The  sequel  of  the  story  was  this,  —  he  found 
that  the  two  sisters,  fearing  he  might  not  come,  had  con- 
cluded to  keep  the  Communion  for  themselves,  imitating  the 
sacred  rite,  as  far  as  they  could,  with  bread  and  water. 

Still  another  incident  is  communicated  by  Rev.  E.  W. 
Donald,  the  present  rector  of  Trinity,  which  also  belongs  to 
these  years.  A  workingman,  living  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of 
Boston,  was  told  at  the  hospital  that  he  must  undergo  a 
dangerous  surgical  operation ;  that  he  could  not  live  unless  it 
were  performed;  that  it  was  doubtful  even  then  if  his  life 
could  be  saved,  but  there  might  be  a  chance.  He  returned 
with  the  information  to  his  home  and  his  wife.  The  opera- 
tion was  to  take  place  the  next  day.  They  had  the  evening 
before  them,  and  they  proposed  to  spend  it  in  a  call  on 
Phillips  Brooks  whom  neither  of  them  knew,  or  had  the 
slightest  claim  on  his  interest  or  attention.  Only,  as  they 
faced  the  crisis,  it  seemed  as  if  a  call  on  Phillips  Brooks  was 
adequate  to  its  portentousness  for  them  both.  Mr.  Brooks 
received  them  as  they  had  expected  he  must,  talked  with 
them  and  soothed  them,  and  promised  to  be  with  them  at  the 
hospital  on  the  following  day.  All  which  their  imagination 
had  conceived  of  what  he  might  be  to  them  in  their  emer- 
gency was  fulfilled  to  the  letter. 

There  are  many  other  instances  of  a  similar  kind  to  be 
told  of  Mr.  Brooks  at  this  stage  of  his  life,  upon  which 
he  was  now  entering.  Some  of  them  are  known  in  all  the 
fulness  of  their  pathos,  others  are  unknown  because  he  kept 
the  details  of  his  kindness  to  himself.  It  is  not  that  inci- 
dents of  this  kind  are  peculiar  in  his  experience  as  a  pastor, 
though  there  is  this  peculiarity,  that  they  are  calls  from  out- 
side his  parish,  unless  we  take  his  parish  to  be  Boston  and 
its  vicinity.  But  what  strikes  the  imagination  in  them  is 
the  contrast  they  suggest,  that  the  preacher  who  moved  the 
admiration  of  the  world  and  had  received  its  honors,  the 
scholar  who  could  have  done  so  much  in  theology  and  in 
literature  if  his  time  had  been  at  his  disposal,  the  man  of 
cultured  artistic  sense,  with  social  gifts,  sought  for  every- 


at.  52]  PARISH   INCIDENTS  675 

where  as  the  ornament  of  social  functions,  where  society 
put  on  its  beauty  and  its  glory,  —  that  such  a  man  should 
have  been  claimed  as  their  own  and  as  if  existing  for  them- 
selves alone,  by  the  poorest,  the  humblest,  the  lowest,  the 
outcast,  and  the  sinner.  He  evidently  was  moved  to  the 
lowest  depths  of  his  being  by  these  appeals,  allowing  nothing 
to  interfere  with  these  demands,  which  rested  upon  the  claim 
of  a  simple  humanity.  It  would  have  been  easy  enough,  if 
he  had  been  so  minded,  to  have  withdrawn  himself,  pleading 
before  his  own  conscience — and  who  could  have  said  he 
would  have  been  wrong  had  he  done  so  ?  —  that  he  was  en- 
gaged in  a  higher  work,  imperatively  demanding  his  time  if 
it  were  to  be  successfully  done;  that  he  had  no  right  to  be 
giving  his  days  to  such  ministrations  which  others  could  per- 
form as  well,  while  no  one  could  do  the  greater  work  he  was 
accomplishing;  that  in  this  effort  to  minister  to  one  soul  in 
trouble  he  might  diminish  his  power  of  ministering  to  the 
thousands  who  flocked  to  hear  him.  He  might,  at  any  rate, 
have  laid  down  the  limits  to  Trinity  Parish,  or  tried  to  do 
so,  —  for  Trinity  now  almost  seemed  to  have  no  limits,  — 
beyond  which  he  would  not  go.  It  must  have  been  that  out 
of  these  things  there  came  a  yet  more  powerful  motive  to 
feed  his  soul  for  its  greater  utterances.  He  might  not  have 
time  to  read  learned  books  any  longer,  but  he  was  reading 
more  closely  than  ever  the  book  of  life.  Some  might  have 
gone  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  asceticism  and  have  reasoned 
that  the  joy  of  social  life  was  incompatible  with  daily  minis- 
trations to  human  sorrow  and  sufferings.  But  he  did  not. 
Life  in  itself  was  never  richer  or  more  attractive  to  him; 
culture  and  wealth  and  refinement,  a  social  function,  still  had 
for  him  a  charm. 

And  yet  even,  in  the  midst  of  many  engagements,  and 
when  life  was  at  its  fullest,  we  begin  to  have  occasional  com- 
plaints from  him  that  he  is  lonely.  It  may  be  owing  to  some 
consciousness  of  isolation,  or  lack  of  complete  sympathy;  or 
may  come  from  the  unique  position  he  occupied.  It  may  have 
been  that  his  large  nature  made  demands  for  human  love 
which  no  friendships  could  satisfy.    Certainly  he  now  became 


676  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

more  than  ever  dependent  upon  his  friends.  He  grew  hungry 
for  their  companionship,  entreating  them  to  come  to  see  him. 
It  was  strange  that  with  a  world  full  of  friends  he  should 
ever  find  himself  alone.  What  he  suffered  from  and  even 
dreaded  at  times  was  the  return  to  the  house,  where  there 
was  no  one  to  welcome  him.  His  face  would  light  up  in 
the  evenings  if  fortunately,  at  ten  o'clock,  he  found  some 
friend  awaiting  in  the  study  his  return.  But  the  dominant 
note  of  his  life  was  one  of  hope  and  cheer  for  the  world. 
"  The  richest  gifts  of  God  cannot  be  imparted  at  once,  and 
man  must  wait  in  patience  until  the  inward  preparation  to 
receive  them  is  completed."  "Life  in  the  individual  or  the 
race  follows  the  analogy  of  education  where  the  best  is  held 
in  reserve."  About  this  time  was  written  the  sermon  en- 
titled "The  Good  Wine  at  the  Feast's  End."  It  was  born 
of  an  inward  conflict  in  the  adjustment  of  the  changes  of 
life. 

Christianity  is  full  of  hope.  It  looks  for  the  ever  richer  com- 
ing of  the  Son  of  Man.  It  lives  in  sight  of  the  towers  of  the 
New  Jerusalem  which  fill  the  western  sky.  Therefore  it  has  been 
the  religion  of  energy  and  progress  always  and  everywhere. 

There  are  ways  in  which  the  world  grows  richer  to  the  grow- 
ing man,  and  so  the  earliest  years  cannot  be  meant  to  be  the  full- 
est or  the  most  glorious,  but  that  privilege  must  belong  rather  to 
the  ripest  and  the  last. 

When  what  we  vaguely  call  this  life  is  done,  there  is  to  come 
the  fulfilment  of  those  things  of  which  we  have  here  witnessed 
the  beginnings.  This  is  the  sublime  revelation  of  the  Christian 
faith.  The  words  of  Christ  reach  forward.  They  all  own  pre- 
sent incompleteness.  The  soul  which  uses  them  is  discontented 
and  lives  upon  its  hope. 

Christ  will  take  you,  if  you  let  Him,  into  his  calm,  strong 
power,  and  lead  you  on  to  ever  richer  capacity  and  ever  richer 
blessing,  till  at  last  only  at  the  end  of  eternity  shall  your  soul  be 
satisfied  and  be  sure  that  it  has  touched  the  height  and  depth  of 
His  great  grace  and  say,  "Now  I  know  Thy  goodness  wholly. 
Thou  hast  kept  the  good  wine  until  now. "  x 

The  accident  at  Philadelphia  left  no  visible  traces  on  his 

1  Ci.  The  Good  Wine  at  the  Feast's  End,  New  York,  1893.  The  sermon  was 
preached  in  May,  1888,  at  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation  in  New  York. 


jet.  52]  LENTEN   SERVICES  677 

physical  system.  He  took  up  his  work  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  In  the  early  part  of  the  year  he  was  making 
many  addresses  outside  of  his  parish :  at  the  Groton  School, 
the  Boston  Latin  School,  the  Little  Wanderers'  Home,  the 
Harvard  Vespers,  the  Workingmen's  Club,  and  St.  Mary's 
Church  for  Sailors,  in  East  Boston,  —  a  diversified  list  of 
calls  upon  his  sympathy. 

Lent  came  in  on  February  15.  He  commented,  as  it  be- 
gan, on  "the  change  to  the  great  shadow."  "There  is  much 
foolish  talk  about  optimism  and  pessimism,  but  the  highest 
and  deepest,  the  brightest  and  darkest  thoughts  of  life  must 
go  together."  His  sermon  for  Ash  Wednesday  was  on  the 
"Sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us."  Another  sermon  is  re- 
membered on  "David  and  the  Shewbread,"  where  he  dwelt 
on  the  freedom  of  the  Bible,  the  freedom  of  great  men  like 
David.  "The  needs  of  human  nature  are  supreme,  and  have 
a  right  to  the  divinest  help.  The  little  tasks  need  divinest 
impulses.  The  secular  woes  are  only  to  be  relieved  by  God. 
In  this  use  the  shewbread  is  most  honored." 

In  a  sermon  at  Harvard  Vespers,  March  8,  he  spoke  on 
the  text,  "God's  judgments  are  far  above  out  of  his  sight." 
"There  are  judgments  of  our  lives  of  which  we  are  unaware, 
which  we  are  not  fine  enough  to  feel.  But  the  order  of  the 
universe  feels  the  judgment  as  a  jar  between  its  wheels. 
Essential  righteousness  is  busy  condemning  us  and  setting 
right  the  wrong  which  we  are  doing.  It  is  awful  to  be  thus 
judged  at  judgment  seats  too  high  for  us  to  know.  Our 
brother  beside  us  is  being  judged  at  them  and  knows  it; 
therefore  the  restless  disturbance  of  his  life.  As  we  grow 
stronger  we  come  into  ever  higher  and  higher  judgments. 
Christ  judged  by  them  all :   '  This  is  My  beloved  Son.'  " 

In  his  Bible  class  on  Saturday  evenings,  he  commented 
on  the  Psalms.  He  preferred  those  which  he  could  associate 
with  the  experience  of  David,  for  David  was  to  him  one  of 
the  few  to  be  accounted  great  in  the  world,  and  the  Psalms 
gained  in  vividness  when  associated  with  a  great  personality. 
"Only  the  experiences  of  a  great  soul  accounted  for  such 
great  utterances." 


678  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

Very  faithful  and  searching  were  the  sermons  dwelling  on 
human  sinfulness;  one  from  the  text,  "He  putteth  his  mouth 
in  the  dust,  if  so  be  there  may  be  hope;  "  another,  on  the 
words  of  Jesus,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee.  Go,  and  sin 
no  more,"  where  he  dwelt  on  the  dilemma  in  which  sin  places 
those  who  would  fain  dwell  with  it.  "How  difficult  it  is  to 
meet  it  rightly!  The  fear  of  cruelty  and  fear  of ►  feebleness; 
the  sense  of  one's  own  sinfulness;  the  danger  of  being  supe- 
rior and  patronizing ;  the  fear  of  exasperating  and  condon- 
ing. So  we  keep  out  of  the  way.  The  first  thing  about 
Christ  is  that  He  never  kept  out  of  the  way." 

The  prominence  of  Christ  in  these  Lenten  services  over- 
shadows all  the  utterances.  It  seemed  as  if  the  speaker 
had  known  Him  in  the  flesh,  or  had  other  conversations  with 
Him  in  the  spirit,  enlightening  him  as  to  the  deeper  mean- 
ing of  the  Saviour's  words.  Two  sermons  were  given  to 
the  " loneliness  of  Christ."  On  Wednesday  evenings  he  took 
up  the  relations  of  Jesus  to  some  of  the  problems  of  society 
and  life.  Of  special  interest  were  the  lectures  on  the  Litany 
given  on  Friday  afternoons.  He  analyzed  its  structure  and 
the  significance  of  its  various  divisions,  the  variety  of  its 
appeal,  the  value  of  its  emphasis  in  repetitions,  its  unvary- 
ing uniform  cry  for  deliverance.  The  invocation  of  the 
Trinity  in  its  opening  clauses  was  not  intended  to  shut  out 
and  restrict  its  use,  but  rather  to  expand  the  grounds  and 
motives  of  the  infinite  appeal.  He  dwelt  especially  on  the 
phrase  "miserable  sinners,"  as  representing  the  human  soul 
standing  in  its  emptiness  and  waiting  to  be  filled  with  the 
profusion  of  God. 

On  the  threshold  of  the  Litany  sinfulness  is  encountered,  as  in 
actual  life,  —  the  hindrance  of  sin.  Its  sources,  —  the  very  sub- 
stance of  our  own  nature ;  the  remoter  sources,  —  the  offences 
of  our  forefathers.  The  double  cry  to  escape  the  punishment  and 
to  be  delivered  from  these  palsying  consequences,  the  guilt  and 
power  of  sin.  (1)  The  sense  of  a  universe  against  us,  of  external 
foes,  the  assaults  of  the  devil,  and  the  feeling  of  the  wrath  cf 
God;  (2)  the  defects  within  the  soul,  the  passions  and  mean- 
nesses, the  spites  and  hatreds,  —  the  soul  deceitful  and  corrupt ; 
(3)  the   triple    agency  of  evil,  —  the  world,  the  flesh,  and   the 


jet.  52]  LENTEN  SERVICES  679 

devil ;  (4)  the  dangers  of  the  physical  life,  —  the  cry  to  be  spared 
from  "sudden  death;  "  (5)  the  evils  of  corporate  life,  heresy  and 
schism. 

One  lecture  was  devoted  to  "The  Great  Appeals  of  the 
Litany," —  "by  the  mystery  of  Thy  Holy  Incarnation,  Thy 
passion,  Thy  resurrection,  and  ascension."  Then  he  turned 
to  the  public  means  of  grace,  the  Church,  the  Ministry,  the 
Sacraments,  the  State  also,  and  suggested  a  new  petition  for 
"the  world  of  nations."  He  closed  with  an  impressive  sum- 
mary :  "  We  sinners,  what  right  —  and  yet  what  a  right  we 
have  to  pray! " 

The  Good  Friday  sermon  was  from  Hebrews  x.  20.  "By 
a  new  and  living  way  which  He  hath  consecrated  for  us 
through  the  veil,  that  is  to  say,  His  flesh." 

It  is  strange  how  the  great  critical  event  of  the  world's  life  is 
a  Death ;  not  a  battle,  nor  a  coronation,  nor  a  new  institution, 
nor  a  birth,  but  yet  all  these  summed  up  in  this  dying. 

Obedience  unto  death.  This  the  only  real  approach  to  God. 
You  may  crowd  upon  Him  any  other  way  and  you  do  not  reach 
Him.  Only  the  great  submission  of  the  will  blends  our  life  with 
His. 

The  great  silent  bliss  as  soul  joins  soul, —  the  Son  and  the 
Father !  But  surely  also  those  whose  life  He  had  gathered  up  into 
His  own !  He  carried  them  through  and  in  His  obedience.  Can 
we  understand  that  ?  The  human  flesh  has  been  always  an  obstacle  ; 
Christ  made  it  a  channel  between  God  and  man. 

The  sermon  for  Palm  Sunday  was  on  the  cry  of  the  multi- 
tudes that  went  before  and  followed  after  Christ  as  He  en- 
tered Jerusalem.  "The  great  future  for  the  world  and  for 
the  personal  life"  was  the  subject:  "Up  the  broad  pathway, 
lo,  He  comes  rejoicing  in  the  solemn  crisis  and  the  awful 
acquisition  of  life." 

On  Easter  Even  was  revealed  "  the  history  that  pauses. 
Here  and  there  it  seems  to  wait  a  moment.  So  with  the 
world's  history;  so  with  a  life's.  There  are  moments  when 
greater  powers  are  more  forceful  than  we  can  feel;  greater 
truths  are  true  for  us  than  we  can  know." 

Exhausting  as  the  Lenten  services  might  be,  Mr.  Brooks 
came  to  Easter  Day  with  the  culmination  of  his  powers.    The 


680  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

morning  service  at  Trinity,  said  the  newspaper  reporter,  was 
attended  by  the  largest  congregation  ever  gathered  within 
its  walls.  The  sermon  was  only  another  variation  of  the 
endless  theme,  — 

the  value  and  sacredness  of  life,  the  impossibility  of  man's  cre- 
ating it,  the  tremendous  power  with  which  man  clings  to  life, 
and  the  imperishable  hope  with  which  man  looks  forward  to  the 
perpetuation  of  life. 

No  matter  what  crazy  sorrow  saith, 

No  soul  that  breathes  with  human  breath, 

Has  ever  truly  longed  for  death. 

In  Christ  there  came  rolling  back  the  great  flood  of  life,  and 
into  the  harbor  of  life  a  flood  of  vitality.  The  thought  of  Easter 
is  the  Sea  of  Life,  the  ocean  without  bounds,  flowing  all  ways 
and  overflowing  all,  the  Divine  existence  in  its  ocean-like  exten- 
sion. 

In  the  correspondence  of  Mr.  Brooks  there  is  to  be  ob- 
served a  change  in  his  mode  of  reference  to  the  Lenten  sea- 
son. Hardly  a  year  had  passed  since  his  ordination  when 
he  does  not  refer  with  some  misgivings  to  the  multiplication. 
Thus,  in  1882,  he  had  written :  — 

I  can't  help  doubting  whether  it  is  an  unmixed  good,  though 
I  know  there  is  a  great  deal  of  good  about  it,  this  sudden  and 
tremendous  access  of  churchgoing.  There  is  no  way  of  drawing 
back  and  retrenching  the  multitude  of  services  without  seeming 
to  discourage  people's  worshipping.  But  I  think  the  old  Lents 
of  my  earlier  ministry,  with  two  or  three  good  solid  services  in 
a  week,  were  probably  quite  as  blessed  as  these  with  their  services 
every  day,  and  sometimes  twice  a  day.  So  you  see,  here  I  am, 
at  forty-six,  already  Laudator  temporis  acti. 

But  the  scene  at  Trinity  Church  during  Lent,  beginning 
with  this  year,  1888,  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  The 
newspapers  called  attention  to  the  services.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  only  parallels  were  "in  the  flood  of  fiery  eloquence 
poured  forth  by  Savonarola,  or  the  matchless  eloquence  of 
Lacordaire."  As  evidence  of  the  change  the  note-books 
may  be  mentioned  for  the  year  1888,  and  the  following  years 
to  1891.  Each  year  he  filled  a  large  note-book  with  his 
plans  of  daily  addresses,  or  of  Wednesday  or  Friday  evening 


jet.  52]  LENTEN  SERVICES  681 

lectures,  or  of  Bible  class  studies.  The  people  went  to  these 
services  in  constantly  increasing  numbers  and  with  an  ever 
deepening  interest.  A  new  phase  of  his  ministry  seemed  to 
have  begun,  marked  by  deeper  solemnity  and  an  ineffable 
tenderness  of  spirit,  as  though  his  heart  alone  were  speaking, 
and  every  one  in  the  congregation  were  his  dearest  friend. 
The  expansion  of  the  man  and  the  fuller  revelation  of  his 
soul  made  every  service  deeply  impressive. 

The  Lenten  lectures,  delivered  from  year  to  year  in  Trinity 
Church,  Boston,  are  made  so  interesting,  so  helpful,  so  memor- 
able, that  vast  throngs  are  always  in  attendance  at  their  delivery, 
that  whenever  reported  and  published  they  are  eagerly  read  in  all 
parts  of  the  country,  and  that  their  influence  outreaches  and  out- 
lasts the  immediate  occasion.  The  lectures  are  full  of  both  doc- 
trinal and  practical  theology,  but  always  of  the  kind  that  springs 
with  seeming  spontaneity  out  of  the  theme  and  out  of  living 
present  human  interests.1 

The  writer  of  the  above  paragraph  was  struck  with  one 
statement  of  Mr.  Brooks's  when  speaking  of  the  Litany:  "It 
is  significant  that  not  in  her  creeds,  but  in  her  prayers,  the 
Church  most  clearly  states  her  dogmas."  The  remark  is, 
indeed,  significant  as  showing  how  far  Phillips  Brooks  had 
departed  from  the  spirit  and  method  of  the  New  England 
theology,  which  had  terminated  in  a  scholasticism  like  that 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  built  upon  dialectic,  glorying  in  its  in- 
tellectual supremacy,  in  the  victory  it  had  achieved  over  the 
theology  of  the  feelings.  Phillips  Brooks  had  gone  back  to 
the  theology  of  life.  He  accepted  the  feeling  as  the  charac- 
teristic and  decisive  element  in  religious  faith.  There  was 
an  intellectual  element  in  the  process  of  faith;  but  it  was 
not  that  which  constituted  its  foundation.  In  the  feeling  for 
the  worth  of  things,  reason  possesses  as  true  a  revelation  as 
experience  has  in  the  principles  of  scientific  investigation. 
In  a  passage  in  one  of  his  sermons,  written  about  this  time 
(1889),  he  took  occasion  to  refer  to  the  New  England  theol- 
ogy and  to  the  arrested  development  of  religious  life  out  of 
which  it  had  sprung :  — 

1  Cf.  Phillips  Brooks  in  Boston,  by  M.  C.  Ayer,  editor  of  the  Boston  Daily 
Advertiser,  p.  26. 


682  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1888 

You  all  know  something  of  what  a  confusion  of  intricate,  com- 
plicated, and  practically  incomprehensible  dogma  the  New  Eng- 
land theology  became.  The  endless  discussion  of  fantastic  ques- 
tions occupied  a  large  part  of  the  people's  thoughts.  The  minute 
and  morbid  study  of  their  spiritual  conditions  distorted  and  tor- 
mented anxious  souls.  Strange  theories  of  the  atonement  grew 
like  weeds.  .  .  .  Heresies  sprang  out  of  the  soul  where  ortho- 
doxy lay  corrupt  and  almost  dead.  It  was  the  sad  fate  of  a 
religious  life  denied  its  due  development  and  shut  in  on  itself.1 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Cooper  there  is  an  allusion  to  the  season 
of  Lent,  showing  the  pleasure  he  took  in  the  frequent  ser- 
vices. But  he  bemoans  the  changes  which  life  is  bringing. 
In  the  midst  of  his  engagements  he  had  been  shocked  and 
saddened  by  the  death  of  Mrs.  Leighton  Parks  in  Italy. 
She  had  entered  with  her  husband  into  the  circle  of  his  more 
intimate  friends,  —  a  woman  who  possessed  a  beautiful  and 
stately  presence,  combining  with  it  a  gracious  charm  of  man- 
ner and  power  of  pleasing,  but  also  strength  of  character, 
self-possession,  devotion,  and  a  true  woman's  insight  and  wis- 
dom. In  her  youth  she  was  suddenly  called,  leaving  sorrow 
and  mourning  behind  her. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  7, 1888. 

Mv  dear  Cooper,  —  It  seems  to  me  as  if  Lent  had  lasted  six 
months,  and  had  had  ten  thousand  services  already,  but  I  never 
liked  it  so  much,  I  think,  and  the  habits  which  it  makes  of  going 
to  the  church  and  thinking  and  talking  about  the  best  things  were 
never  so  welcome.  I  hope  it  does  the  people  as  much  good  as  it 
does  the  minister.  It  has  been  saddened  for  us  here  by  the 
melancholy  tidings  from  Parks  of  Emmanuel  Church.  He  is 
abroad  for  a  winter's  rest,  and  has  been  for  weeks  at  death's  door 
in  an  hotel  at  Pisa.  And  in  the  midst  of  his  illness,  his  wife, 
who  was  with  him,  died.  He  is  going  to  get  well,  but  what  a 
dreary  life  he  will  come  back  to.  He  has  three  little  children. 
It  is  the  breaking  up  of  one  of  the  happiest  and  brightest  homes 
I  ever  knew. 

And  is  the  shoulder  all  right  ?  And  have  you  got  your  sleep- 
ing powders  yet  ?  And  has  William  Bembo  got  his  head  again  ? 
And  has  the  railroad  given  him  a  thousand  dollars  ?  How  long 
ago  it  all  seems,  and  yet  what  a  shudder  it  sends  through  one's 
bones  to  think  of  it !  Mr.  Morrill  sent  to  New  York  and  got 
1  Sermons,  vol.  vi.  p.  352. 


jet.  52]  CORRESPONDENCE  683 

me  a  magnificent  and  mighty  stick  to  replace  the  one  that  van- 
ished on  that  awful  night,  so  that  I  carry  a  memorial  of  the 
great  accident  on  all  my  walks. 

The  following  letters  belong  to  this  period :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  9,  1888. 

Oh,  if  things  would  not  so  be  breaking  to  pieces  all  the  while ! 
Nothing  stays  put.  Here  is  our  little  ecclesiastical  teapot  all  in 
a  bubble.  Courtney  goes  this  way  and  Greer  goes  that,  and  who 
knows  what  will  happen  to  Percy  or  whether  Father  Hall  will  be 
spared!  The  Bishop  looks  very  ill.  It  must  all  be  that  the 
things  which  cannot  be  shaken  may  remain. 

Good-by.      Bless  God  you  are  safe  and  well. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  13, 1888. 

Dear  Arthur,  —  Now  in  these  idle  days  of  Lent  it  is  a  good 
time  for  a  small  piece  of  extra  work.  Professor  Jacks,  of  Lon- 
don, has  sent  me  these  copies  of  the  addresses  to  be  made  to 
James  Martineau,  and  asked  whether  a  few  of  the  representative 
men  of  our  church  would  like  to  sign  it.  I  think  that  some  of 
them  would.  Certainly  I  shall  sign  it.  Will  you?  And  will 
you  ask  four  or  five  others  of  the  New  York  men?  You  will 
know  whom  it  is  best  to  ask.  But  I  wish  you  would  ask  Bishop 
Potter,  and  I  would  venture  to  name  Huntington,  Tiffany,  Don- 
ald, and  Heber  Newton. 

Surely  this  is  a  proper  chance  to  do  one  of  these  natural  and 
pleasant  things  which  make  us  feel  the  unity  of  the  search  for 
truth  under  all  our  divisions.  I  thought  of  sending  it  to  Har- 
wood,  and  Bishop  Harris,  and  Professor  Allen.  Do  you  think  of 
any  one  besides,  whose  name  would  be  desirable? 

The  blessed  Lenten  days  are  fast  slipping  away  from  us,  and 
before  we  know  it  we  shall  come  out  of  the  golden  gate  of  Easter 
into  that  bewildering  world  where  we  do  not  go  to  church  every 
day.  How  strange  it  will  all  be !  But  to-day,  Winter  is  in  our 
faces,  and  Lent  is  in  our  hearts. 

Ever  affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 

P.  S.  There  can  be  no  harm  in  a  lay  signature  or  two,  if  the 
right  men  occur  to  you.      How  about  President  Barnard? 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  22,  1888. 
Mv  dear  W.,  — On  the  morning  of  the  23d  I  start  for  Hali- 
fax, that  is,  if  I  go  to  Courtney's  consecration,  as  he  has  asked 
me  to  do,  and  as  it  seems  to  me  that  somebody  from  his  old  home 
here,  where  he  has  been  for  so  long,  ought  to  do,  but  you  shall 


684  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

have  the  welcomest  of  welcomes,  and  I  will  do  all  that  it  is  in 
my  power  to  do  for  your  blessed  Baptist.  This  shifting  from 
denomination  to  denomination,  either  of  lay  folk  or  of  clergy, 
has  little  in  it  to  stir  one's  soul,  but  let  us  take  the  little  Baptist 
in  and  teach  him  all  our  beautiful  ways,  and  he,  too,  will  soon 
be  prating  about  unity. 

How  the  parsons  are  jumping  about !     What  a  dance  it  is,  — 

A and  B ,  and  now  there  are  faint  signs  of  agitation 

in  C .     May  they  all  find  the  peace  they  seek. 

Your  old  friend  and  brother,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  projecting  a  larger  work  for  Trinity,  and 
seems  to  have  felt  the  necessity  also  of  arranging  that  some 
share  in  the  preaching  should  be  borne  by  his  assistants. 
The  vestry  of  Trinity  responded  to  his  request  for  relief, 
instructing  the  clerk  of  the  vestry  "to  communicate  to  our 
beloved  rector  the  grateful  acknowledgments  of  the  Pro- 
prietors for  his  untiring  and  devoted  services  during  the 
past  autumn  and  winter,  and  to  make  arrangements  with 
him  for  his  relief  from  labor  and  care  during  the  proposed 
absence  of  the  assistant  minister."  At  this  time  he  re- 
signed his  position  as  trustee  on  the  Slater  Foundation,  which 
he  had  held  since  1882,  having  been  appointed  by  Mr.  John 
F.  Slater  when  he  made  his  gift  of  one  million  dollars  for 
Christian  education  in  the  Southern  States. 

To  Rt.  Rev.  H.  C.  Potter,  he  wrote:  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  June  5,  1888. 

Dear  Henry,  —  I  did  not  read  Dr.  Harris's  excellent  pam- 
phlet. Can  you  really  care  about  the  infinitesimal  question  of 
unon- communicating  attendance  "  ?  It  seems  to  me  to  be  the 
very  end  and  exhaustion  of  religion,  a  toy  for  the  intel- 
lect to  play  with,  but  profoundly  unworthy  the  consideration  of 
any  reasonable  man. 

And  then  the  way  the  Disputants  deal  with  it !  The  appeals 
to  authority !  The  eager  interest  in  the  question  whether  the 
Early  Fathers  "  stayed  to  Communion  "  !     Who  cares  ? 

Are  all  the  hard  questions  answered  and  the  great  wrongs  set 
right  that  men  are  able  to  find  time  for  things  like  these  ? 

I  hope  that  you  are  well  and  idle. 

Affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 


jet.  52]         MEMORIAL  SERMON  685 

At  Trinity  Church,  on  Sunday,  the  10th  of  June,  Phillips 
Brooks,  in  the  course  of  his  sermon,  spoke  of  the  death  of 
Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  a  Unitarian  minister  who  for 
many  years  had  been  held  in  the  highest  respect  and  rever- 
ence in  Boston,  for  his  intellectual  and  moral  force  and  his 
saintly  character :  — 

I  cannot  stand  here  to-day  without  a  tribute  of  affectionate 
and  reverent  remembrance  to  Dr.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  the 
minister  of  the  Church  of  the  Disciples,  the  friend  and  helper  of 
souls.  How  much  that  name  has  meant  in  Boston  these  last 
forty  years !  When  I  think  of  his  long  life ;  when  I  remember 
what  identification  he  has  had  with  all  that  has  been  noblest  in 
every  movement  of  the  public  conscience  and  the  public  soul; 
when  I  see  how  in  the  days  of  the  great  national  struggle,  from 
first  to  last,  he  was  not  only  true  to  Freedom,  but  a  very  captain 
in  her  armies  and  a  power  of  wisdom  and  inspiration  in  her  coun- 
cils ;  when  I  think  what  words  of  liberty  the  slave  and  the  bigot 
have  heard  from  his  lips;  when  I  think  how  his  studies  have 
illuminated  not  merely  our  own  faith,  but  all  the  great  religions; 
when  I  see  how  much  of  Christ  was  in  his  daily  walk  among  us, 
in  his  unswerving  truthfulness,  his  quiet  independence,  his  ten- 
derness and  strength,  his  pity  for  the  sinner,  and  his  hatred  of 
the  sin ;  when  I  think  how  he  loved  Christ,  —  when  all  this  gathers 
in  my  memory  at  the  tidings  of  his  death,  the  city,  the  country, 
the  Church,  the  world,  seem  emptier  and  poorer.  He  belonged 
to  the  whole  Church  of  Christ.  Through  him  his  Master  spoke 
to  all  who  had  ears  to  hear.  Especially  he  was  a  living  epistle 
to  the  Church  of  Christ  which  is  in  Boston.  It  is  a  beautiful, 
a  solemn  moment  when  the  city,  the  Church,  the  world,  gather 
up  the  completeness  of  a  finished  life  like  his,  and  thank  God 
for  it,  and  place  it  in  the  shrine  of  memory  to  be  a  power  and 
a  revelation  thenceforth  so  long  as  city  and  Church  and  world 
shall  last.  It  is  not  the  losing,  it  is  rather  the  gaining,  the 
assuring  of  his  life.  Whatever  he  has  gone  to  in  the  great  mys- 
tery beyond,  he  remains  a  word  of  God  here  in  the  world  he 
loved.  Let  us  thank  our  Heavenly  Father  for  the  life,  the  work, 
the  inspiration,  of  his  true  servant,  his  true  saint,  James  Free- 
man Clarke. 

Part  of  this  tribute,  beginning  with  the  words  "  He  belonged 
to  the  whole  Church  of  Christ,"  is  now  an  autograph  beneath 
the  portrait  of  James  Freeman  Clarke  in  the  church  where 
he  ministered. 


686  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

Letters  were  constantly  sent  to  Phillips  Brooks,  telling 
him  what  his  published  sermons  were  doing  to  strengthen 
faith  and  inspire  hope.  This  letter  is  from  a  person  in  Eng- 
land unknown  to  him,  and  represents  the  feeling,  almost  -the 
expressions,  of  the  many  others  who  wrote  to  him :  — 

May  14, 1888. 

For  the  last  five  years  I  may  say  that  I  have  read  one  of  your 
sermons  every  Sunday,  and  the  help  and  spiritual  nourishment 
I  get  from  them  has  been  a  very  real  source  of  strength  and 
happiness  in  my  life.  .  .  .  Often  and  often  have  I  opened  a 
volume  of  your  sermons  in  hours  of  despondency  and  gloom,  when 
the  Unseen  has  seemed  to  be  the  non-existent,  when  all  high 
ideals  were  slipping  away,  and  the  actual  was  pressing  out  faith 
and  courage;  and  never  did  the  reading  of  your  words  fail  to 
encourage  and  strengthen  me  and  send  me  back  to  suffering  or 
action  with  fresh  force  and  energy.  I  have  been  through  the 
various  phases  of  intellectual  doubt  and  skepticism,  and  you  have 
helped  me  out  on  the  right  side.  The  absence  of  all  dogmatism 
and  sectarian  narrowness,  combined  with  so  inspiring  a  belief  in 
God's  revelation  of  Himself  to  us  and  of  the  Divine  in  us,  is 
what  I  find  so  helpful  in  your  books;  and  the  large  views  you 
take  of  life  are  to  me  most  educative  and  elevating. 

There  is  a  letter  from  Dr.  Holmes,1  which,  although  it  has 
been  published,  is  so  interesting  and  representative  that  an 
extract  from  it  may  be  given  here :  — 

296  Beacon  Stkeet,  May  23,  1888. 

My  dear  Mr.  Brooks,  —  I  had  the  privilege  of  listening  to 
your  sermon  last  Sunday  forenoon.  I  was  greatly  moved  and 
impressed  by  it,  and  I  came  away  very  thankful  that  so  divine 
a  gift  of  thought  and  feeling  had  been  bestowed  upon  one  who 
was  born  and  moves  among  us. 

My  daughter  would  be  glad  to  have  me  as  her  constant  com- 
panion, and  of  course  it  would  be  a  delight  to  listen  to  such 
persuasive  and  inspiring  exhortations  as  those  which  held  your 
great  audience  last  Sunday.   .   .   . 

I  am  ashamed  to  ask  you  to  pardon  this  letter.  You  know 
the  language  of  sincerity  from  that  of  flattery,  and  will  accept 
this  heartfelt  tribute  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  given. 

Sincerely  and  respectfully  yours,  0.  W.  Holmes. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  to  spend  the  summer  at  home  preaching 

1  Cf .  Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  vol.  i.  p.  280. 


at.  52]  CORRESPONDENCE  687 

at  Trinity  and  at  St.  Andrew's  (when  it  should  be  ready). 
Nominally  he  was  residing  on  his  ancestral  acres  in  North 
Andover,  but  he  made  many  visits.  One  was  to  Pittsfield, 
where  he  spent  a  week  with  Kev.  W.  W.  Newton,  from 
whence  he  visited  Williamstown  to  preach  before  the  stu- 
dents in  the  Congregational  Church.  He  writes  to  Mr. 
Newton  after  his  return,  and  speaks  of  Commencement  at 

Harvard :  — 

July  4, 1888. 

The  Commencement  went  off  bravely.  President  Eliot  gave 
us  a  fine  panegyric  on  Democracy,  and  the  boys  will  talk  and 
behave  better  for  it  in  the  future,  and  we  of  '55  played  the  old 
graduate  with  dignity  and  credit,  so  I  hope,  but  the  youngsters 
were  too  busy  admiring  themselves  to  care  how  we  played  it. 
Never  mind,  we  have  each  other,  and  the  world  is  rich  in  recol- 
lections. 

There  came  letters  to  him  from  India,  from  the  Kev.  G.  A. 
Lefroy,  of  the  Delhi  Mission,  and  from  Mr.  Robert  Macona- 
chie,  of  the  Indian  Civil  Service,  showing  that  he  was  still 
held  in  affectionate  remembrance  after  the  lapse  of  five  years. 
To  these  letters  in  his  leisure  at  North  Andover  he  re- 
sponded :  — 

July  5,  1888. 

My  dear  Mr.  Lefroy,  — It  made  me  glad  and  proud  to  get 
your  letter,  now  a  long  time  ago.  To  be  remembered  for  five 
years  by  one  whose  life  is  as  full  as  yours  is  indeed  something 
to  be  proud  of,  and  to  have  the  pleasant  days  which  we  spent  at 
Delhi  so  pleasantly  recalled  is  truly  a  delight. 

How  long  ago  it  seems,  and  what  a  host  of  things  have  hap- 
pened since,  and  yet  how  clear  it  all  is.  I  had  a  delightful  let- 
ter from  Maconachie  the  other  day,  which  was  like  the  thinning 
of  a  cloud  which  was  very  thin  already.  I  saw  the  old  scene 
perfectly,  and  could  hear  the  tones  of  voices  which  I  have  not 
heard  for  five  busy  years.  And  that  you  and  the  friends  I  saw 
with  you  have  been  bravely  and  patiently  going  on  at  the  good 
work  ever  since  fills  me  with  admiration.  Do  you  still  have 
your  noon  service  in  your  chapel-room  as  you  used  to?  That 
seemed  to  me  always  beautiful.  And  do  the  brown  boys  play 
cricket  ?  And  do  you  have  school  feasts  and  prizes  ?  And  is  that 
region  of  the  Kuttab  as  fascinating  as  it  was  when  we  drove  out 
there  one  bright  morning?     I  can  hear  the  cool  splash  of  that 


688  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

boy  now,  as  he  jumps  down  into  the  pool.  It  is  a  picture  which 
never  grows  dim,  and  only  needs  the  touch  of  a  letter's  wing  to 
scatter  the  dust  which  lay  collected  on  it. 

That  you  in  your  good  work  should  care  anything  about  my 
books  touches  me  very  much  indeed.  They  were  written  for  my 
people  here,  and  nothing  was  farther  from  my  thought  than  that 
they  should  be  read  by  the  Jamna  and  the  Ganges.  But  how 
simple  it  all  grows  as  we  get  older!  The  whole  of  what  we  per- 
sonally have  to  live  and  what  we  go  out  to  preach  is  loyalty  to 
Christ.  It  is  nothing  but  that.  All  truth  regarding  Christ  and 
all  duty  towards  His  brethren  is  involved  in  that  and  flows  out 
from  it.  To  teach  Him  to  any  one  who  never  heard  of  Him  is 
to  bring  a  soul  into  the  sight  of  Him  and  His  unspeakable  friend- 
ship. To  grow  stronger  and  better  and  braver  ourselves  is  to 
draw  nearer  to  Him  and  to  be  more  absolutely  His. 

And  this  seems  to  take  off  the  burden  of  life  without  lessening 
the  impulse  of  its  duties.  He  is  behind  all  our  work.  It  is  all 
His  before  it  is  ours  and  after  it  is  ours.  We  have  only  to  do 
our  duty  in  our  little  place,  and  leave  the  great  results  to  Him. 
We  are  neither  impatient  nor  reluctant  at  the  thought  of  the  day 
when  we  shall  have  finished  here  and  go  to  higher  work. 

But,  dear  me !  what  right  have  I  to  say  all  this  to  you,  who 
know  it  so  much  better,  who  are  putting  it  so  constantly  and 
richly  into  your  life  and  work?  I  grow  stronger  for  Boston 
when  I  think  of  Delhi.  I  hope  that  Allnut  will  come  back  to 
you  mightily  refreshed.  Give  my  best  love  to  Carlyon,  and  tell 
him  how  well  I  remember  all  his  kindness.  Your  other  mates 
I  do  not  know,  but  venture  to  send  them  my  greeting  as  their 
brother  in  the  work.  Be  sure  that  I  shall  always  delight  to  hear 
from  you.  How  hot  you  must  be  to-day !  Would  that  you  were 
here  in  our  New  England  coolness.      God  bless  you  always ! 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

July  6,  1888. 
Dear  Mr.  Maconachie,  —  It  is  long  since  anything  has 
made  me  so  glad  as  your  letter.  That  you,  with  all  your  busy 
life,  should  think  still  of  those  two  weeks  which  are  an  unfading 
picture  in  my  memory  is  indeed  wonderful  to  me.  I  greet  you 
and  your  wife  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday  instead  of  five  long  years 
since  we  parted.  What  a  life  God  has  given  you !  To  be  His 
minister  to  millions  of  His  children,  to  touch  their  lives  with 
the  new  sense  of  justice  and  mercy  which  must  bring  them  some 
revelation  of  Him,  and  at  the  same  time  to  care  for  the  real  life 
which  is  the  spiritual  life  of  some  of  your  fellow  workers,  who  is 


jet.  52]  CORRESPONDENCE  689 

there  that  has  greater  privilege?  All  that  you  say  about  your 
friend  touches  me  deeply.  God  help  him !  The  great  assuring 
certainty  is  that  God  is  helping  him.  I  think  we  should  all  of 
us  long  ago  have  given  up  trying  to  do  anything  for  our  friends 
if  we  had  not  been  spiritually  sure  of  that.  The  things  we  do 
are  so  out  of  proportion  to  what  is  to  be  done.  But  he  is  doing 
it,  and  our  work  may  well  be  content  to  be  a  bit. 

Since  I  saw  you  life  has  gone  on  with  me  in  very  pleasant 
monotony.  I  came  back  to  my  work  in  the  autumn  of  1883. 
Twice  since  then  I  have  made  summer  visits  to  England  and  the 
Continent.  The  winters  have  been  given  to  preaching  and  work- 
ing. I  hope  it  has  not  been  without  result.  But  I  grow  less 
and  less  inclined  to  ask.  The  work  itself  is  delightful,  and,  if 
it  is  faithfully  done,  it  must  do  good.  That  is  enough.  Every 
year  it  seems  to  me  as  if  not  merely  the  quantity  but  the  quality 
of  Christian  life  grew  better.  Never  was  there  an  age  when  so 
many  men  had  so  high  thoughts  of  God  as  now.  And  this  I  say 
in  clear  sight  of  the  perplexing  problems  and  discouraging  spec- 
tacles to  which  no  man  can  shut  his  eyes.  We  see  dimly  what 
your  anxieties  are.  We,  with  our  country  swarming  with  the 
disturbed  elements  of  all  the  world,  have  our  anxieties  and  mis- 
givings, which  are  yet  not  too  much  for  faith.  Is  it  not  just  in 
our  two  countries,  yours  and  mine,  India  and  America,  that  the 
meeting  of  strange  races  with  one  another  is  taking  place,  and  so 
that  the  issues  of  the  greater  day  of  Christ  are  being  mysteriously 
made  ready  ?  Would  that  we  could  sit  either  in  your  bungalow 
or  in  my  study  and  talk  of  all  these  things!  But  this  letter- 
writing  is  poor  work.  It  is  only  like  ships  hailing  each  other  at 
sea.  But  it  is  better  than  nothing.  Your  letter  brought  me 
the  Indian  sunshine  and  color  and  strength,  and  Boston  for  a 
moment  seemed  the  unreal  thing.  Now  I  am  reading  it  again, 
and  answering  it  under  my  ancestral  trees  in  the  country,  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Boston,  where  my  forefathers  have  lived  for  a 
century,  and  where  I  retreat  for  summers.  It  is  the  very  glory 
of  a  summer  day.  The  trees  are  chattering  Puritan  theology, 
and  I  am  rejoicing  that  the  world  is  larger  than  they  know,  and 
that  afar  off  in  the  Punjab  there  is  some  one  who  cares  how  it 
fares  with  me.  May  God  bless  him  and  his  wife  and  his  boys, 
—  so  prays  his  friend, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

On  Sunday,  the  15th  of  July,  Dr.  Brooks  preached  at 
Trinity  Church  before  the  National  Prison  Congress.  The 
sermon  was  noteworthy  apart  from  its  eloquence,  for  it  con- 

vol.  n 


690  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1888 

tamed  the  assertion  of  profound  theological  and  humanita- 
rian principles,  and  as  such  was  immediately  published  by 
the  National  Prison  Association  for  gratuitous  distribution. 
The  text,  "I  was  in  prison  and  ye  came  unto  me,"  led  him 
to  take  up  the  deeper  meaning  of  the  words  of  Christ,  who 
had  suffered  no  imprisonment  and  yet  had  been  in  prison. 
"It  must  have  been  the  deeper  Christ, — the  Christ  which 
the  theologies  have  tried  to  express  when  they  have  made 
Jesus  the  head  of  humanity,  —  Christ  the  typical  manhood, 
Christ  the  divine  and  universal  man,  —  this  was  the  Christ 
who  had  lain  in  the  prison  awaiting  the  visitation  of  pitiful 
and  sympathetic  hearts."  The  great  human  sympathy  of  the 
preacher  flowed  through  the  sermon  like  a  river.  It  closed 
with  a  fine  passage  drawing  sharply  the  distinction  between 
sentiment  and  sentimentality. 

I  know  how  weak,  in  many  people's  minds,  are  my  positions, 
because  they  rest  on  sentiment.  I  know  how  weak,  in  many 
minds,  seems  the  whole  cause  of  prison  improvement,  because  of 
the  element  of  sentiment  which  is  in  it.  But  there  is  nothing 
stronger  than  a  true  sentiment  for  any  policy  or  plan  of  action  to 
start  from  and  to  rest  upon.  The  great  human  sentiments  are 
the  only  universal  and  perpetual  powers.  Creeds,  schemes  of 
government,  political  economies,  philosophies,  are  local,  are  tem- 
porary; but  the  great  human  sentiments  are  universal  and  per- 
petual. Upon  them  rests  religion.  In  their  broadening  move- 
ment moves  the  progress  of  mankind.  It  is  not  sentiment,  but 
sentimentality,  which  is  weak  and  rotten.  Sentiment  is  alive, 
and  tense,  and  solid;  sentimentality  is  dead,  and  flaccid,  and 
corrupt.  Sentiment  is  just;  sentimentality  has  the  very  soul  of 
injustice.  Sentiment  is  kind;  sentimentality  is  cruel.  Senti- 
ment is  intelligent;  sentimentality  is  senseless.  Sentiment  is 
fed  straight  out  of  the  heart  of  truth;  sentimentality  is  distorted 
with  the  personal  whims  and  preferences.  Sentiment  is  active ; 
sentimentality  is  lazy.  Sentiment  is  self-sacrificing;  sentimen- 
tality is  self-indulgent.  Sentiment  loves  facts;  sentimentality 
hates  them.  Sentiment  is  quick  of  sight ;  sentimentality  is  blind. 
In  a  word,  sentiment  is  the  health  of  human  nature,  and  senti- 
mentality is  its  disease.  Disease  and  health  often  look  strangely 
alike,  but  they  are  always  different.  He  who  would  escape  sen- 
timentality must  live  in  sentiment.  He  who  would  keep  senti- 
ment true  and  strong  must  fight  against  sentimentality,  and  never 


mt.  52]  CORRESPONDENCE  691 

let  himself  accept  it  for  his  ally.  In  these  days,  when  many 
men  are  disowning  sentiment  because  they  confound  it  with  sen- 
timentality, and  many  other  men  are  abandoning  themselves  to 
sentimentality  because  they  confound  it  with  sentiment,  do  not 
all  men  need  to  learn,  and  never  to  forget,  their  difference  ?  Do 
any  men  need  more  to  learn,  and  to  remember  it  than  they  who 
have  to  deal  with  prisoners  and  prisons  ? 

To  the  Rev.  George  A.  Strong  he  writes  in  response  to  an 
invitation  that  he  would  deliver  a  lecture :  — 

Trenton  Falls,  July  22, 1888. 
Dear  George,  —  Your  letter  of  last  Wednesday  has  found 
me  at  this  pleasant  place,  where  I  am  spending  a  peaceful  Sun- 
day without  preaching  or  any  other  clerical  performance,  only 
looking  at  the  pretty  falls,  and  going  this  morning  to  a  little 
village  Methodist  meeting,  where  the  sermon  was  very  good  in- 
deed. And  here  comes  your  request  to  lecture  in  your  course 
next  winter!  Dear  George,  if  it  were  only  anything  but  lectur- 
ing! If  you  had  only  asked  me  to  give  a  concert,  or  a  ballet, 
or  any  of  those  things  which  are  quite  in  my  line!  But  I  have 
never  lectured,  and  don't  believe  I  can.  I  have  not  a  rag  of 
preparation  to  cover  the  nakedness  of  my  incompetence.  Will  it 
not  be  enough  if  I  come  to  hear  Charles  ?  He  never  thought  the 
rest  of  us  had  any  manners.  How  he  will  give  them  to  us  when 
he  gets  us  in  his  helpless  audience !  As  to  lecturing  after  him, 
I  am  hopeless,  — but  I  will  do  it  for  you,  George.  I  will  do 
anything  for  you.  I  will  disgrace  myself  to  any  extent,  if  only 
I  don't  disgrace  you!  So,  if  I  may  come  and  talk  extempora- 
neously, out  of  an  idle  brain,  and  do  not  have  to  write  a  beautiful 
lecture  on  paper  to  be  read  with  feeling  and  expression,  I  will 

come,  — that  is,   if  you  and  M will  come  and  see  me  at 

North  Andover  some  time  between  the  15th  and  the  30th  of  Au- 
gust, and  tell  me  all  about  it.  Do  not  deny  me  this.  But  send 
me  word  immediately  to  Boston,  will  you  ?  when  it  shall  be.  I 
shall  go  up  each  Monday  afternoon,  and  you  will  come  from  New 
Bedford  in  the  morning  and  go  up  with  me.      Say  you  will  do 

this,  and  I  will  be  most  happy.     Tell  M to  tell  you  to  say 

"Yes  "  for  yourself  and  her.  I  hope  to  hear  this  week.  Good-by. 
I  think  I  shall  lecture  on  "Matters." 

Ever  yours,  P.  B. 

St.  Andrew's  Church  was  opened  for  worship  on  Sunday, 
July  29,  1888,  and  in  the  evening  Mr.  Brooks  preached  to 
an  overflowing  congregation  on  the  fatherly  care  of  God  for 


692  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

all  his  universe,  and  showed  that  the  church  was  established 
to  set  forth  that  divine  love  and  care.  He  continued  to 
preach  at  St.  Andrew's  every  Sunday  evening  for  the  rest 
of  the  summer.  To  the  Rev.  W.  Dewees  Roberts,  he  wrote 
asking  him  to  be  one  of  the  assistant  ministers  at  Trinity 
Church.  How  he  regarded  the  work  of  an  assistant,  or,  in 
other  words,  how  he  administered  the  affairs  of  a  large  par- 
ish, is  evident  from  the  following  passage :  — 

I  cannot  specify  in  detail  what  would  be  your  duties  in  the 
parish.  In  general,  I  should  like  to  have  you  help  at  the  Parish 
Church  and  at  St.  Andrew's,  as  it  might  be  required;  and  I 
should  be  glad  of  every  effort  of  your  own  enterprise  and  origi- 
nality, in  devising  new  work,  and  extending  the  good  influence 
of  the  Church  in  every  direction. 

An  English  novel,  "Robert  Elsmere,"  was  the  chief  sen- 
sation of  the  summer.  Mr.  Brooks  alludes  to  it  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  September  1,  1888. 

Mv  dear  Miss  Meredith,  —  I  must  beg  you  to  excuse  my 
delay  in  sending  you  these  Literatures  and  Lives  which  I  now 
most  gladly  enclose.  I  was  absent  when  your  note  arrived,  and 
when  I  did  receive  it,  it  was  in  the  country  where  I  could  not  lay 
my  hand  at  once  upon  the  interesting  documents.  But  here  they 
are,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  send  them. 

I  have  finished  "Robert  Elsmere,"  and  found  it  very  interest- 
ing, mainly,  however,  with  that  secondary  interest  which  belongs 
to  the  circumstances  of  a  book  and  its  relation  to  its  time,  rather 
than  to  its  substance  and  absolute  contents.  It  is  a  curious  mix- 
ture of  strength  and  weakness.  It  has  the  sharp  definitions  of 
spiritual  things,  the  fabrication  of  unreal  dilemmas  and  alterna- 
tives in  which  the  English  mind,  and  especially  the  English  cleri- 
cal mind,  delights.  It  is  as  unintentionally  unfair  as  a  parson, 
only  on  the  other  side.  It  seems,  as  Matthew  Arnold  used  to 
seem,  to  be  entirely  unaware  of  the  deeper  meanings  of  Broad 
Churchmanship,  and  to  think  of  it  only  as  an  effort  to  believe 
contradictions,  or  as  a  trick  by  which  to  hold  a  living  which  one 
ought  honestly  to  resign. 

It  is  not  good  to  name  a  doctrine  by  a  man's  name,  but  there 
is  no  sign  that  this  writer  has  ever  heard  of  the  theology  of 
Maurice.  But  how  interesting  it  is !  what  charming  pictures  of 
English  life !  and  what  description  of  mental  conditions  and  evo- 


jet.  52]  CORRESPONDENCE  693 

lutions,  whose  real  source  and  true  issue  we  must  still  feel  that 
she  misses! 

I  am  very  glad  indeed  to  know  that  your  anxiety  is  in  some 
degree  relieved  regarding  Mrs.  Norris. 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Brooks  there  are  rough  notes 
which  seem  to  indicate  that  he  had  been  asked  for  some  more 
formal  expression  of  his  opinion.  For  the  book  had  been  so 
real  in  its  portraiture  that  it  bad  thrown  people  into  mental 
and  religious  confusion.  This  was  his  more  complete  judg- 
ment :  — 

Thoroughly  English. 

Weakness  of  the  orthodox  people.  Preconceived  idea  that 
they  must  not  think. 

Perhaps  a  return  to  the  human  Christ  from  which  the  disciples 
began.  Thence  to  be  led  on  through  the  mystery  of  manhood 
into  His  complete  life. 

The  whole  question  what  is  to  become  of  his  Brotherhood. 
Not  be  contemptuous  about  the  new,  extemporized,  experimental 
character  of  it.  By  such  experiments  the  great  eternal  stream  of 
effort  is  constantly  reinforced. 

The  Christ-miracle ;  and  then  all  else  believable. 

Broad  Churchmanship  is  not  explaining  away,  but  going  deeper, 
embracing  all  nature. 

This  is  Matthew  Arnold  turned  to  prose. 

The  incomplete  story  of  the  reasons  of  the  change  in  Elsmere. 

The  nineteenth  century  in  the  book. 

Elsmere  between  the  Squire  and  Catharine. 

The  necessary  struggle  of  the  new  coming  forth  from  the  old, 
its  exaggerations  and  distortions. 

The  attitude  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  rejecting  the  tenet  of 
apostolical  succession,  and  his  bold  insistence  on  recogniz- 
ing the  Christian  character  and  work  of  Unitarian  ministers 
such  as  his  friend  the  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  was 
followed  by  hostile  criticism  in  Episcopal  Church  news- 
papers, which  continued  through  the  summer,  and  indeed 
from  this  time  was  never  intermitted.  He  had  evidently 
counted  the  cost  when  he  took  his  ground,  discounting  the 
ecclesiastical  criticism  which  was  sure  to  follow.  The  sum- 
mer, on  the  whole,  had  been  an  agreeable  one,  broken  up 


694  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

with  short  visits,  but  with  no  intermission  of  preaching.  He 
started  into  the  work  of  the  fall  with  his  usual  apparent 
vigor. 

To  the  proposal  of  some  of  his  friends  to  nominate  him  for 
the  presidency  of  Columbia  University,  in  New  York,  he 
refuses  to  listen.     To  Rev.  W.  R.  Huntington  he  writes:  — 

233  Clarendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  October  29,  1888. 

Dear  Huntington,  —  I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  friendly 
note  sustaining  Tiffany's  kind  but  somewhat  wild  suggestion.  I 
have  had  to  write  him  that  it  must  not  be.  My  only  ambition 
is  to  be  a  "Parish  Priest. M  I  am  not  much  of  a  P.  P.,  but  as 
a  College  President  I  should  be  still  less.  It  would  be  good  to 
be  where  I  should  see  you  all,  and  run  perpetually  in  and  out  as 
seems  to  be  you  New  York  men's  way.  But  it  would  not  be 
Boston,  and  I  should  be  lost  in  your  vast  town.  So  leave  me 
here,  and  let  another  hold  the  college  sceptre.  Both  you  and 
Tiffany  are  only  too  good  to  think  the  nomination  would  not  be 
absurd. 

The  cards  which  came  to-day  tell  me  how  near  draws  the 
change  in  your  household  which  will  make  life  different  to  you. 
I  am  rejoiced  to  know  that  it  will  only  make  it  happier  and  richer. 
I  wish  I  knew  your  daughter  well  enough  to  send  her  word  by 
you  how  truly  she  has  the  best  of  good  wishes  from  her  father's 
friend.  May  the  marriage  bells  and  skies  overrun  with  bless- 
ings. Ever  faithfully  yours, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

There  was  a  short  visit  to  Philadelphia  in  the  latter  part 
of  October,  and  then  this  letter  to  the  Eev.  W.  N.  Mc- 
Vickar :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  6,  1888. 
My  dear  William,  —  It  was  a  bold  thing  for  me  to  ask  you 
for  the  "Vade  Mecum, "  but  I  wanted  it,  and  I  thought  you  would 
give  it  to  me,  and  you  did.  Now  I  shall  have  associations  with 
it  every  time  I  take  it  up  to  go  on  one  of  those  official  duties 
which  we  know  so  well.  The  first  one  I  had  was  given  me  by 
Marshall  Smith  when  we  left  the  Seminary.  The  second  was 
given  me  by  George  Strong  while  I  was  at  Holy  Trinity.  And 
now  you  fit  me  out  for  the  home  stretch,  and  give  me  the  book 
which  will  see  me  through  all  the  services  until  my  journey's 
end.  Would  that  I  were  where  I  might  take  your  hand  and 
thank  you.      You  will  be  sure  that  I  am  grateful,  won't  you? 


mt.  52]     THANKSGIVING  SERMON  695 

We  have  seen  that  Phillips  Brooks  reserved  for  his  ser- 
mons on  Thanksgiving  Days  topics  of  general  interest,  polit- 
ical or  religious,  which  afforded  the  opportunity  to  summarize 
the  world's  outlook  in  each  successive  year.  In  the  preamble 
of  one  of  these  sermons,  1881,  he  thus  alludes  to  this  usage 
and  justifies  it,  although  aware  of  its  dangers :  — 

Thanksgiving  Day  has  fallen  naturally  into  the  habit  of  trying 
to  estimate  the  tendencies  and  the  present  conditions  of  our  cur- 
rent life.  Such  efforts  have  made  a  great  literature  which  I 
think  is  almost  peculiar  to  our  time,  the  literature  of  an  age's 
introspection ;  of  the  inquiry  by  living  men  into  the  nature  and 
worth  of  the  life  of  their  own  time. 

The  Thanksgiving  Day  sermons  taken  together  present  not 
only  a  picture  of  the  time  through  which  he  lived,  but  of  his 
own  life  also,  —  the  individual  moods  reflecting  the  mood  of 
the  common  humanity.  In  1888  he  considered  that  passing 
mood  of  sadness,  which  seems  to  have  been  widespread,  when 
for  a  moment  the  world  had  grown  subdued  and  thoughtful, 
when  the  joy  of  living  had  given  place  to  a  more  sombre 
estimate  of  the  future.  Taking  for  his  text  Psalm  lxxxix. 
15,  "Blessed  is  the  people  that  hear  the  joyful  sound,"  he 
began  his  sermon  with  this  tribute  to  the  forefathers  of  New 
England :  — 

With  all  the  hardness  of  their  Puritanism  they  were  not  so 
grim  as  they  sometimes  seem,  since  it  was  in  their  hearts  to  in- 
stitute a  day  of  joy.  It  may  be  they  were  of  those  who  rather 
accepted  joy  as  a  duty  than  yielded  to  it  as  an  instinct;  but  at 
least  they  saw  how  true  and  necessary  a  part  of  life  it  was. 

The  gratitude  and  thankfulness  called  for  by  the  national 
festival  were  in  contrast  with  the  prevailing  mood  of  the 
hour. 

Let  us  think  for  a  few  moments  about  the  tendency  of  the 
world  with  reference  to  this  whole  matter  of  joyfulness.  Some- 
times we  hear,  sometimes  certainly  we  fear,  that  the  world  we 
live  in  is  growing  to  be  a  sadder  world,  that  happiness  is  less 
spontaneous  and  abundant  as  the  years  go  by.  Is  that  the  truth, 
or  is  it  a  delusion  ? 

His  method  of  meeting  the  inquiry  is  to  reduce  it  to  more 


696  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

exact  terms.  The  world  of  realism  is  just  as  joyous  as  it 
ever  was.  The  world  of  childhood  knows  no  difference. 
The  children  have  not  found  out  that  the  world  is  old.  Each 
new  generation  is  still  born  into  a  garden.  The  world  also 
of  uncivilized,  barbaric  life  keeps  all  the  joy  and  freshness 
it  ever  had.  It  is  only  of  the  comparatively  small  world  of 
adult  human  civilization  of  which  it  may  be  said  that  its 
sadness  deepens  its  joy.  And  of  this  world  it  may  be  asked 
whether  its  growing  sadness  is  a  real  decline  and  loss  of  that 
robustness  and  primitive  simplicity  of  life,  or  whether  the 
great  world,  like  every  man,  is  simply  for  the  moment  moody, 
and  the  stage  of  sadness  is  a  temporary  thing,  not  to  be 
made  too  much  of,  sure  to  pass  away,  having  no  reasons 
which  are  deep,  best  treated,  as  the  moods  of  a  great  healthy 
man  are  often  best  treated,  by  ignoring  it.  He  turns  to  the 
reasons  which  may  account  for  this  existing  mood :  — 

(1)  The  larger  view  of  the  world,  the  clearer  atmosphere,  so 
that  we  hear  the  groans  of  misery  in  Mexico  or  Turkey.  The 
curtain  has  fallen  between  the  rich  and  the  poor;  the  poor  look 
into  our  luxurious  homes  with  their  haggard  faces,  and  we  eat 
and  talk  and  sleep  in  the  unceasing  sound  of  their  temptation 
and  distress.  There  has  been  nothing  like  it  in  any  other  day. 
No  wonder  the  world  grows  sad. 

(2)  The  universal  ambition;  all  who  feel  the  spirit  of  the  time 
are  struggling  for  the  unattainable.  The  mountains  and  the 
rivers,  once  climbed  or  followed  only  by  a  few,  now  fling  their 
challenge  or  the  invitation  to  all.  There  is  discontent  every- 
where, and  discontent  means  sadness. 

(3)  The  vague  way  in  which  our  complicated  life  puts  us  in  one 
another's  power.  The  strings  of  a  man's  destiny  are  held  by  a 
thousand  hands,  most  of  them  unknown  to  him, —  his  fortune  at 
the  mercy  of  brokers  plotting  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  his 
character  at  the  mercy  of  gossips  talking  in  the  next  room,  his 
life  at  the  mercy  of  anarchists  raving  in  some  cellar  underground. 
Hence  the  burden  of  a  conscious  helplessness,  —  a  nightmare 
which  will  not  let  him  stir.  He  is  sad  with  the  vague  loss  of 
personal  life. 

(4)  Another  reason  for  the  sadness  of  which  all  are  more  or 
less  aware  is  the  presence  of  fear  as  an  element  in  our  life. 
Other  ages  knew  at  least  what  perils  they  were  threatened  with. 
The  consciousness  of  our  time  is  that  it  does  not  know.     Vast, 


mt.  52]         THANKSGIVING  SERMON  697 

unmeasured  forces  hold  us  in  their  hands.  Great,  bleak,  uncer- 
tain vistas  open  and  appall  us.  We  are  like  children  in  the  waste 
of  a  great  prairie.  The  mere  vastness  scares  us.  We  fear  we 
know  not  what.  We  only  know  we  fear.  And  fear  like  that 
does  not  inspire  definite  and  concentrated  energy.  It  only  breeds 
pervading  and  pathetic  sadness. 

(5)  The  man  on  whom  these  causes  of  sadness  act.  Our  modern 
human  nature  is  sensitive  as  in  no  other  time  to  such  a  degree. 
Things  hurt  more  than  they  used  to  hurt.  Once  no  one  cared 
how  much  the  beasts  suffered  by  the  driver's  lash  or  the  surgeon's 
knife.  Once  men  went  home  from  an  auto  da  i6  and  slept  with- 
out uncomfortable  dreams.  The  atmosphere  has  grown  clearer 
and  the  perceptions  within  us  finer.  He  who  had  foreseen  it  all 
years  ago  might  have  said  prophetically,  "What  a  terrible  capa- 
city of  sadness  man  is  growing  into  and  will  reach !  " 

From  this  summary  of  the  causes  producing  sadness,  the 
preacher  turned  to  the  reassuring  prospects  in  life,  to  show 
how  in  each  one  of  these  motives  he  had  enumerated  there 
was  the  possibility  of  contributing  to  joy,  that  indeed  they 
are  the  very  elements  and  motives  that  must  be  mingled  in 
the  deepest  joy.  The  large  view  of  the  world,  the  eager 
ambitions,  the  close  complications  of  life  with  life,  the  out- 
look into  future  mystery,  and  the  quickened  sensitiveness, 
—  these  are  essential  to  the  final  perfect  happiness ;  they  are 
permanent  forces  which  have  come  to  remain ;  it  is  only  the 
first  influence  of  them  which  is  temporary ;  as  the  time  goes 
on  the  first  confusion  and  depression  will  pass  away.  "  The 
life  and  character  of  Jesus  is  a  perpetual  illumination  of  the 
hopes  of  man.  In  Him  behind  the  superficial  and  tempo- 
rary sadness  is  revealed  a  profound  and  ultimate  joy.  No 
restless  and  impatient  pessimist  knows  the  deep  tragedy  of 
life  as  the  Divine  Sufferer  knew  it.  All  that  lies  undi- 
gested, unassimilated  in  the  present  condition  of  the  world 
lay  harmonized  and  peaceful  in  the  soul  of  Christ." 

I  have  talked  idly,  almost  wickedly,  upon  Thanksgiving  morn- 
ing, unless  I  have  succeeded  in  making  you  see  light  shine  out 
of  the  darkness,  in  making  you  hear  a  "joyful  sound"  piercing 
through  the  complaints  and  wailings  which  besiege  our  ears.  We 
take  too  little  views.  It  is  not  the  events  of  life,  nor  its  emo- 
tions, or  this  or  that  experience,  but  life  in  itself  which  is  good. 


698  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1888 

The  great  joy  is  just  to  be  alive.  The  fact  of  life  is  greater  than 
what  is  done  with  it.  So  I  answer  confidently  the  question 
which  I  asked.  No  period  of  sadness  can  be  other  than  tempo- 
rary. The  nature  of  the  world  is  not  changed.  Nothing  has 
happened  to  make  it  different  from  what  it  has  always  been. 
The  essential  tendency  of  life  is  towards  happiness.  Therefore 
we  may  wait  confidently  till  the  morning.  Optimism  tempered 
and  sobered,  nay,  saddened,  if  you  will,  but  optimism  still  is  the 
only  true  condition  for  a  reasonable  man.  I  seem  to  see  Christ 
stand  over  all  making  the  world  into  His  likeness.  The  promise 
issues  fresh  from  the  divine  lips  of  the  great  Saviour,  the  great 
Sufferer,  the  Son  of  Man,  the  Son  of  God,  that  the  pure  in  heart 
shall  see  God,  and  that  He  will  lead  all  men  to  the  Father. 

On  his  fifty -third  birthday  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Kobert  Treat 

Paine :  — 

December  13, 1888. 
Dear  Mrs.  Paine,  — I  thank  you  again,  as  I  have  thanked 
you  many  times  before,  and  always  with  a  fuller  and  fuller  heart. 
Few  men  have  had  such  happy  years  and  such  kind  friends  as 
have  been  given  me.  I  wish  I  had  been  more  worthy  of  them, 
but  at  any  rate  I  am  grateful  for  them,  most  of  all  for  you  and 
yours.  I  dare  to  believe  it  will  keep  on  until  I  am  a  hundred. 
At  present,  however,  I  am  looking  forward  to  next  Saturday, 
when  I  shall  thank  you  again.  Gratefully, 
Your  friend, 

Phillips  Brooks. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

1889 

WATCH  NIGHT.  OCCASIONAL  ADDRESSES.  LENT  SERVICES 
AT  TRINITY  CHURCH.  ILLNESS.  SUMMER  m  JAPAN. 
EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS.  THE  GENERAL  CONVEN- 
TION. SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL  REFORMS.  THE  EVANGELI- 
CAL ALLIANCE.      CORRESPONDENCE 

Watch  night  at  Trinity  had  always  been  an  impressive 
service,  but  the  impression  deepened  with  the  passing  years. 
There  was  something  almost  weird  in  seeing  the  church  at 
midnight  with  a  congregation  coming  from  every  direction, 
quietly  pouring  into  all  the  vacant  spaces,  on  the  floor  or  in 
the  galleries.  Mr.  Brooks  always  made  it  a  point  to  have 
his  friends  in  the  chancel  in  order  to  more  sympathetic  utter- 
ance. A  description  of  the  service  is  here  given,  as  it  was 
reported  in  a  Boston  paper :  — 

Everybody  has  heard  of  Methodist  and  Second  Adventist 
watch-night  meetings;  of  the  prayers,  of  the  songs,  the  testimo- 
nies, the  audible  manifestations  of  religious  enthusiasm  with 
which  members  of  these  communions  are  accustomed  in  certain 
localities,  and  especially  were  accustomed  in  former  times,  "to 
watch  the  old  year  out  and  the  new  year  in."  The  impression 
derived  from  witnessing  or  reading  accounts  of  such  gatherings 
naturally  is  that  a  watch-night  service  is  peculiarly  adapted  to 
places  and  people  where  and  among  whom  religious  fervor  is 
more  highly  esteemed  than  the  graces  of  culture.  Accordingly 
the  public  devotional  observance  of  the  midnight  hour  between 
December  31  and  January  1  is  not  extensively  practised  in  New 
England.  But,  year  after  year,  the  wealthiest  church  in  Boston, 
connected  with  that  denomination  which,  of  all  Protestant  com- 
munions, has  the  stateliest  ceremonial  of  worship,  celebrates 
"watch  night "  with  services  so  impressive,  so  solemn,  so  deeply 
spiritual,  that  the  memory  of  them  remains  indelibly  stamped 
upon  the  minds  of  many  participants. 


7oo  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

Last  night,  when  the  hour  of  eleven  opened,  Trinity  Church 
appeared  to  be  filled  in  every  part;  yet  for  some  time  afterward 
there  was  a  constant  stream  of  people  entering  and  following  the 
ushers,  who  kept  on  providing  seats  in  all  possible  places  until 
not  another  seat  could  be  found ;  and  then  a  multitude  remained 
standing,  until  the  last  hour  of  1888  was  ended,  and  the  first 
hour  of  1889  had  come. 

After  an  address  by  Rev.  Leighton  Parks,  Rev.  Phillips 
Brooks  spoke  three  or  four  minutes,  urging  home  the  thought  that 
during  every  moment  of  the  closing  year  God's  hand  has  held  and 
guided  us,  and  that  during  the  coming  year  we  rest  still  more 
completely  in  His  love,  not  because  He  loves  us  more,  but  because 
we  may  open  our  hearts  wider  to  receive  His  love. 

Then,  as  the  hands  of  the  clock  that  stood  within  the  chancel 
railing  pointed  to  one  minute  of  midnight,  the  great  congregation 
bowed  in  silent  prayer  until  twelve  strokes  had  been  sounded 
forth,  and  1889  had  begun.  The  united  repetition  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer  aloud  ended  this  solemn  stage  of  the  service,  after  which 
Dr.  Brooks  again  spoke  a  few  earnest  words,  expressing  the  hope 
that  all  present  might  live  stronger,  purer,  more  manly,  more 
womanly,  more  Christlike  lives  in  the  year  that  had  begun  than 
in  the  year  that  had  closed. 

An  incident  occurred  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  which 
illustrates  the  tolerance  of  Phillips  Brooks,  not  only  in 
thought,  but  in  action.  As  a  member  of  the  Standing  Com- 
mittee of  the  Diocese,  he  labored  for  the  confirmation  of 
Rev.  C.  C.  Grafton,  who  had  been  elected  bishop  of  Fond  du 
Lac,  in  Wisconsin,  writing  letters  also  in  his  behalf  to  other 
dioceses  which  were  hesitating,  urging  that  the  comprehen- 
siveness of  the  church  should  not  be  restricted  by  any  per- 
sonal or  doctrinal  prejudices.  In  a  letter  he  remarks  that 
he  is  surprised  to  find  how  earnest  he  has  become  in  advo- 
cating the  cause  of  one  "  for  whom  nothing  in  the  world 
would  have  induced  me  to  vote." 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  7,  1889. 
Dear  Arthur,  —  You  really  ought  to  read  "  Ilian,  or  the 
Curse  of  the  Old  South  Church."  It  is  the  most  preposterous 
novel  that  any  author  ever  wrote,  and  any  publisher  ever  pub- 
lished. I  have  read  it  from  beginning  to  end,  and  thanked  you 
for  it  at  every  absurd  page.  I  did  not  dream  a  book  could  be  so 
bad.     Therefore  I  bless  you  for  a  new  sensation.   ...   I  went 


mt.  S3]  CORRESPONDENCE  701 

to  St.  Paul's  Church  and  preached  there  morning  and  evening  the 
other  Sunday,  and  had  the  usual  curious  and  mixed  sensations. 
I  couldn't  help  feeling  as  if  Father  and  Mother  were  sitting  over 
in  Pew  No.  60,  and  as  if  I  were  both  the  preaching  minister  and 
the  tall  boy  in  the  congregation. 

During  January  and  February  Mr.  Brooks  went  again  to 
Faneuil  Hall  for  four  successive  Sunday  evenings.  He  gave 
also  one  Sunday  evening  to  a  service  in  the  Globe  Theatre. 
There  is  the  usual  record  of  sermons  at  Appleton  Chapel 
and  of  addresses  at  the  Harvard  Vespers.  He  was  getting 
some  relief  under  the  burden  he  was  carrying,  for  Trinity 
had  called  another  assistant  minister,  —  Rev.  Roland  Cotton 
Smith,  in  whose  cooperation  Mr.  Brooks  took  hope  and  com- 
fort. How  full  his  days  were  is  evident  from  this  letter  to 
Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar:  — 

233  Clarendon  Stkeet,  Boston,  January  14,  1889. 

Dear  William,  —  Is  it  indeed  possible  that  a  week  from  to- 
morrow evening  you  will  indeed  be  here?  'Tis  true!  And  I 
am  all  expectation.  You  and  your  sister  will  arrive,  I  hope,  as 
early  in  the  evening  as  you  can.  I  am  to  be  out  of  town  all  day, 
but  shall  be  back  by  six  o'clock,  and  dinner  shall  wait  you  at 
whatever  hour  after  that  you  will  come.  About  Sunday,  the 
27th,  you  are  to  preach  at  Cambridge  in  the  evening.  Alas  that 
I  must  not  hear  you,  but  I  must  be  at  Faneuil  Hall,  where  I  am 
holding  four  Sunday  evening  services,  but  we  will  meet  later  and 
you  shall  tell  me  how  the  students  liked  your  talk.  You  will 
preach  for  me,  I  hope,  in  the  morning,  and  then  we  will  make 
Roland  Cotton  Smith  preach  in  the  afternoon,  so  that  neither  of 
us  shall  be  overworked.  Cotton  Smith  is  preaching  excellently, 
and  fast  taking  the  work  out  of  the  hands  of  the  old  Rector. 

I  hope  now  to  get  away  from  here  on  the  evening  of  February  6, 
and  spending  a  day  in  New  York,  to  be  in  Philadelphia  some  time 
on  Friday,  the  8th.  There  I  can  stay,  I  hope,  about  a  week, 
and  it  will  be  a  delightful  frolic. 

The  sermons  which  Mr.  Brooks  delivered  at  Faneuil  Hall 
or  at  the  Globe  Theatre  differed  in  some  respects  from  his 
ordinary  preaching.  In  his  note-books  we  see  him  in  the 
process  of  preparation  for  what  is  requiring  a  greater  effort 
of  his  strength  than  his  ordinary  sermon.     He  was  not  pro- 


7o2  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

posing  to  preach  down  to  these  congregations,  but  to  lift 
himself  above  even  his  highest  level.  He  took  for  one  of 
his  texts  the  words  of  Christ,  "I  am  among  you  as  he  that 
serveth."  He  did  not  urge  upon  his  hearers  the  importance 
of  goodness  or  righteousness  in  themselves,  for  some  might 
have  lent  a  deaf  ear  to  his  entreaty.  He  struck  a  deeper 
note,  one  that  must  resound  in  every  soul,  when  he  summed 
up  practical  religion  in  the  effort  to  make  others  good. 
"Christ  in  the  gospel  never  appears  so  much  as  one  who  is 
cultivating  righteousness  in  Himself,  but  as  one  seeking  to 
cultivate  it  in  others." 

In  his  sermon  at  the  Globe  Theatre  he  dwelt  on  the  neces- 
sity of  a  feeling  of  "need"  as  lying  beneath  the  world's  life 
and  the  history  of  its  civilization.  No  discovery  was  made 
or  work  done  without  it;  imagine  it  removed  and  there 
would  be  a  vast  stoppage.  "In  the  spiritual  life  the  absence 
of  the  sense  of  imperious  need  is  the  great  cause  of  sluggish- 
ness, —  the  dulness  of  the  churches  compared  with  the  vital- 
ity of  the  streets."  He  wrestled  like  a  giant  with  his  theme, 
till  it  seemed  as  if  every  soul  must  have  felt  the  need  which 
he  portrayed.  His  text  was  the  words  of  the  centurion  to 
Christ,  "Sir,  come  down,  ere  my  child  die." 

Turning  from  these  sermons  we  find  him  on  the  15th  of 
January  at  the  dinner  given  to  Professor  Lovering  on  the 
completion  of  fifty  years'  service  at  Harvard,  where  he 
spoke  for  the  ministry,  as  bringing  their  tribute  to  the  man 
of  science.  For  himself,  as  he  remarked,  he  had  not  been 
while  in  college  or  since  a  student  who  excelled  in  the  natural 
sciences,  and  for  mathematics  which  Professor  Lovering 
represented  he  had  shown  no  aptitude.  And  yet  there  re- 
mained "the  value  of  forgotten  knowledge,  which  has  some- 
how passed  into  the  blood.  It  was  better  to  have  known  and 
lost  than  never  to  have  known  at  all.  At  least  the  sense  of 
the  value  of  the  sciences  was  something  gained.  It  was  all 
like  forgotten  but  effectual  periods  in  the  world's  history." 
He  recognized  "the  debt  which  we  all  owe  to  a  man  who  has 
made  any  department  of  life  more  complete,  the  power  of 
scientific  study  to  enrich  life  and  make  it  more  youthful,  — 


jet.  53]     A   HARVARD  ANNIVERSARY      703 

the  proud  consciousness  of  a  man  who  knows  the  world  through 
which  he  is  passing." 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  17,  1889. 

Dear  Arthur, — .  .  .  How  the  familiar  mill  grinds  on 
through  these  mid- winter  months!  I  hope  the  world  is  better 
for  its  grinding,  and  I  believe  it  is.  We  varied  it  the  other 
night  by  a  great  dinner  in  honor  of  Joe  Lovering  and  his  com- 
pleted fifty  years  of  professorship.  Eliot  and  Peabody  and  Good- 
win and  a  lot  of  others  loaded  him  with  praise,  and  he  himself 
looked  happy  and  young  and  wonderfully  as  if  he  would  like  to 
begin  again. 

To  think  that  I  myself  remembered  Cambridge  for  almost 
thirty-eight  of  those  fifty  years  was  solemn. 

There  is  no  other  news  except  that  I  have  written  half  a  ser- 
mon and  hope  to  get  the  other  half  done  by  Sunday.  And  last 
night  there  was  a  Wednesday  evening  lecture,  and  William  and 
Mary  came  in  afterwards,  and  Parks  turned  up  quite  late. 

I  wish  that  you  were  here  this  rainy  afternoon.  We  would 
neglect  our  duty  and  talk.      Now  I  will  neglect  mine  and  read. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

On  the  21st  of  January  he  made  the  address  on  the  occasion 
of  the  thirty-eighth  anniversary  of  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Association,  when  they  were  taking  possession  of  their 
building  on  Boylston  Street.  His  subject  was  the  value  of 
the  institution,  and  the  significance  it  had  for  human  life. 
But  as  he  went  on  he  broadened  his  thought,  as  he  did  on 
every  such  occasion,  till  it  included  religion  and  the  changes 
which  it  had  undergone ;  he  spoke  of  this  organization  as  one 
of  the  necessary  forms  which  the  changed  form  of  religion 
was  demanding.  He  had  no  fear  of  its  interference  with  the 
churches  of  Christ,  for  it  is  the  Church  of  Christ.  Liberty, 
he  impressed  upon  the  young  men,  had  been  the  character- 
istic word  of  the  last  hundred  years,  but  it  was  a  negative 
term,  the  removal  of  obstacles  in  order  that  a  higher  order 
might  come  in,  the  reign  of  human  sympathy  under  the  re- 
cognition of  human  brotherhood.  "Cultivate  the  power  of 
sympathy  because  it  is  the  spirit  of  your  age  and  the  coming 
age."  Sympathy  "is  curing  more  and  more  the  evils  of 
social  life,  making  harmonious  the  differences  of  our  com- 


704  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

mercial  life,  entering  more  and  more  into  the  obstructed 
ways  of  secular  life."1 

This  varied  picture  of  the  active  life  of  Mr.  Brooks  during 
the  month  of  January  is  not  exceptional,  but  may  be  taken 
as  a  type  of  all  his  months  in  every  year.  We  follow  him 
now  into  another  Lenten  season,  where  we  can  only  pause 
to  note  the  topics  with  which  he  was  concerned.  Friday 
evenings  he  devoted  to  the  versicles  in  the  Prayer  Book,  and 
as  he  expounded  them  the  words,  which  had  become  so  fa- 
miliar as  to  have  almost  lost  their  force,  were  seen  to  be  full 
of  unsuspected  depths  of  meaning.  He  dwelt  on  the  "effect 
of  a  largely  constructed  liturgy  like  ours,  constantly  used, 
upon  the  progress  of  religious  thought  in  an  individual  and 
in  a  church."  Because  he  kept  himself  alive  to  the  deeper 
meanings  of  familiar  words,  he  gave  them  force  when  he  read 
them  in  the  daily  services.  They  were  mistaken  who  thought 
that  he  slurred  the  service  in  order  to  get  to  the  sermon. 
The  service  took  on  new  beauty  and  impressiveness  when  he 
read  it.  "He  puts  into  his  utterance  of  creed  and  litany  and 
prescribed  forms  of  prayer,"  said  a  writer  not  of  his  own 
communion,  "such  wealth  of  personal  consecration  that  a 
person  who  should  hear  that  and  nothing  more  would  remem- 
ber the  thrilling  experience  all  his  days." 

On  Wednesday  evenings  he  dwelt  on  the  "appeals  to 
Christ"  as  given  in  the  Evangelical  narrative:  "Come  down 
ere  my  child  die;  "  "Speak  to  my  brother  that  he  divide  the 
inheritance  with  me;  "  "Give  me  this  water  that  I  thirst 
not,  neither  come  hither  again  to  draw;"  "Kemember  me 
when  Thou  comest  in  Thy  kingdom."  There  was  one  course 
of  lectures  that  he  was  giving  during  Lent  in  this  year,  which 
deserves  a  special  mention.  He  took  up  with  his  Bible  class 
the  evidences  of  Christianity,  —  what  some  have  thought  to 
be  the  most  formal  and  perfunctory  subject  in  the  whole 
range  of  systematic  theology.  His  natural  utterance  on 
these  subjects  was  in  his  sermons  in  such  a  living  way  that 
Christianity  became  its  own  evidence,  —  and  Christianity  was 
Christ.  It  is  evident  from  the  preparation  he  made  that  he 
1  Cf.  Essays  and  Addresses,  pp.  170  ff. 


jet.  S3]        CHRISTIAN   EVIDENCES  705 

was  doing  his  best  to  reach  the  minds  of  the  young  men 
before  him  in  ways  that  they  would  appreciate.  The  distinc- 
tive features  of  his  theology  appear  at  every  turn,  and  the 
thoroughness  of  his  mind,  as  he  takes  up  in  succession,  (1) 
Christianity,  (2)  Christ  and  the  Trinity,  (3)  The  Bible,  (4) 
Miracles,  (5)  The  Resurrection,  (6)  The  Church,  (7)  Per- 
sonal Experience,  (8)  Prayer.  Although  he  did  not  value 
this  kind  of  work  as  his  best,  yet  if  his  notes  of  these  lectures 
could  be  published,  they  would  form  a  valuable  manual  for 
Christian  instruction.  As  an  instance  of  his  method  and  in 
justification  of  these  comments,  an  extract  is  here  given  from 
the  last  of  these  lectures,  entitled  "Personal  Experience: " — 

What  is  the  Christian  religion  for?  The  salvation  of  the 
world.  But  that  must  be  by  the  salvation  of  men.  And  so  we 
ask  whether  it  has  saved  men.  When  we  ask  what  it  is  to  save 
a  man,  we  remember  what  are  a  man's  enemies.  His  sins,  his 
discouragements,  his  sloths,  his  temptations.  All  of  these  keep 
man  from  the  fulness  of  his  life,  from  what  God  made  him  to 
become. 

Now  the  religion  of  Christ  undertakes  to  rescue  man  from 
these  evils,  and  to  let  him  complete  himself.  Has  it  done  that  ? 
Who  shall  answer?  Only  they  who  have  submitted  themselves 
to  its  power.  The  difference  of  this  proof  from  all  others: 
danger  of  reasoning  in  a  circle.  The  soul  must  stand  in  the  sun- 
light to  bear  witness  to  the  sun. 

The  claim  of  the  Christian  faith  is  that  there  is  a  Divine  Pre- 
sence among  men,  by  whose  agency  Christ  is  forever  present  in 
the  world  and  does  in  richer  way  that  which  He  did  during  His 
incarnation,  —  the  truth  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

What  did  Christ  do  ? 

1.  He  forgave  men's  sins,  and  so  set  them  free  for  a  new  life. 

2.  He  declared  such  a  doctrine  of  humanity  as  made  that  new 
life  seem  to  be  the  natural  life  of  man. 

3.  He  put  the  power  of  that  new  life  into  men,  and  made  them 
strong  with  a  power  which  they  knew  was  not  their  own. 

4.  He  comforted  men  for  their  sorrows  with  a  positive  consola- 
tion which  made  even  their  sorrows  a  source  of  strength. 

5.  He  glorified  life ;  filling  it  with  joy  and  making  it  seem  a 
beautiful  and  noble  thing  to  live. 

6.  He  adjusted  men's  relations  to  each  other  by  making  them 
have  common  love  for  himself. 

vol.  n 


7o6  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

7.  He  set  unselfishness  as  the  law  of  men's  lives.  Making 
them  first  devoted  to  Him  and  then,  for  His  sake,  to  one  another. 

8.  He  made  life  spiritual,  making  the  soul  more  than  the 
body. 

9.  He  declared  immortality  to  the  soul,  making  it  know  itself 
stronger  than  death. 

Now  all  these  could  only  be  known  to  the  souls  in  which  they 
existed,  and  to  those  whom  they  told  of  their  experience.  But  that 
souls  did  know  those  experiences  we  cannot  doubt.  Look  at  St. 
John's  Epistles,  —  "Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,"  etc. 

And  all  of  these  are  the  experiences  of  men  to-day.  We  can- 
not doubt  their  word.     Then  why  not  of  all  men  ?     Either :  — 

1.  They  are  meant  for  a  few  and  all  are  not  capable  of  them. 
Show  that  this  cannot  be  true.     Tbe  essentially  human  char- 
acter of  the  experience. 

Only  understand  the  need  of  different  types  and  properties  of 
their  elements. 
Or  else :  — 

2.  Men  put  some  hindrance  in  the  way.  How  unconscious  this 
may  be.  The  need  of  close  self-inquiry  as  to  the  condition  of 
mind.      Need  of  asking  what  are  the  ways  of  openness. 

Those  ways  are :  — 

1.  Prayer.      The  whole  appeal  of  the  nature  to  the  Infinite. 

The  asking  of  God  to  show  Himself.  The  objective  and  sub- 
jective thoughts  of  prayer.  The  meaning  of  God's  "hearing 
prayer  "  and  doing  things  because  we  pray  to  Him. 

2.  Reading  the  Bible.  The  need  of  knowing  the  historic 
Christ.  The  hope  that  in  Him  we  may  find  the  help  we  seek. 
The  strange  neglect  of  and  lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  Gospels. 

3.  The  readiness  to  give  reality  and  value  to  the  experiences  of 
others. 

4.  The  sense  of  our  own  incompleteness.  Not  to  be  satisfied, 
but  always  conscious  of  the  prophecy  of  larger  things. 

To  count  the  highest  experiences  not  impossible,  that  is  the 
condition  for  the  highest  life. 

One  may  detect  a  somewhat  unusual  tone  in  the  Sunday 
morning  sermons  delivered  during  this  season  of  Lent.  At 
least  the  texts  imply  a  certain  pathos  in  the  mood  which 
chose  them,  stealing  over  the  preacher,  as  he  sought  in  new 
ways  to  enforce  the  truth  within  him.  Thus  the  sermon  for 
Ash  Wednesday  was  from  the  text,  "Who  knoweth  if  He 
will  return  and  repent  and  leave  a  blessing  behind  him." 


jet.  S3]  LENTEN   SERVICES  707 

The  picture  is  of  a  departing  God,  once  very  near,  now  going 
away  and  going  further.  To  some  it  is  very  real  as  a  fact  of 
experience.  They  did  once  have  God  nearer  to  them.  The  days 
of  communion  and  obedience  and  realized  love ;  the  definite  stan- 
dards. And  now  the  far-awayness  of  it  all.  Or  to  take  the  com- 
parison, not  of  past  and  of  present,  but  of  idea  and  realization. 
God  is  close  to  us  in  His  own  revelation,  but  far  from  us  in  our 
actualization  of  Him.      This  the  deeper  historic  meaning. 

Either  way  the  withdrawing  God  and  the  soul  crying  after 
Him.  Strange  situation!  Driving  Him  away  and  yet  calling 
on  Him  to  stay.  The  mixed  mystery  of  our  inner  life.  .  .  . 
He  certainly  will  return,  else  what  mean  these  promises  ?  He  is 
not  going  willingly,  nor  angrily,  nor  carelessly.  He  is  going 
because  He  must,  because  you  will  not  have  Him. 

He  will  return  if  you  seek  Him  rightly.  The  gift  He  will 
bring  back  with  Him  is  an  offering  to  Himself.  Restoration  to 
be  sought  that  we  may  have  a  life  to  give  Him. 

This  puts  a  motive  into  our  repentance.  Repentance  for 
safety,  even  for  cleanness,  is  not  complete.  The  true  motive  that 
God  may  be  glorified  in  us. 

This  implies  a  certain  essence  of  the  misery  of  sin.  It  is  that 
our  sinful  lives  do  not  belong  to  and  redound  unto  Him.  That  is 
the  felt  misery  of  the  best  lives  when  they  fall  into  sin.  They 
have  dishonored  God.  They  have  nothing  to  render  Him.  Then 
the  delight  of  His  return,  that  once  more  they  may  do  Him  honor. 

The  sense  of  exhilaration  which  thus  enters  into  repentance. 

One  of  the  sermons  was  on  the  text  in  the  Prayer  Book 
version,  "He  brought  down  my  strength  in  my  journey  and 
shortened  my  days."  Another  sermon  was  on  a  verse  from  a 
Psalm:  "I  shall  find  trouble  and  heaviness,  and  I  will  call 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord."  And  still  another  from  the 
words  of  Christ :  "  It  cannot  be  that  a  prophet  perish  out  of 
Jerusalem."  In  this  sermon  he  dwelt  on  the  expenditure  of 
energy  for  personal  power  and  wealth  and  lower  ends,  —  the 
giving  of  life  for  most  unworthy  things. 

The  life  must  be  given.  You  must  expend  it.  You  cannot 
keep  it.  It  is  going.  What  is  there  to  show  for  it  at  the  end  ? 
Is  there  the  result  of  enlarged  spiritual  conditions  in  the  world, 
so  that  first  we  and  then  our  brethren  are  better  for  our  having 
lived  ?     He  who  perishes  in  Jerusalem  claims  Jerusalem  for  God. 

There  are  but  few  letters  belonging  to  this  moment.     One 


7o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1889 

of  them  is  important  as  giving  his  opinion  on  the  various 
expositions  appearing  from  time  to  time  regarding  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  its  claims  and  their  grounds.  It  was  written 
to  the  Rev.  George  H.  Buck :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  16, 1889. 

My  dear  Mr.  Buck,  —  I  do  not  know  a  single  book  about 
our  Church  which  does  not  mingle  with  its  exposition  of  what  the 
Church  is  some  notions,  more  or  less  erroneous,  but  certainly 
private  and  personal,  of  the  author.  Therefore,  I  am  quite  out 
of  the  habit  of  asking  any  one  who  is  at  all  interested  in  our 
Church  to  study  anything  but  the  Prayer  Book.  The  Prayer 
Book,  without  note  or  comment,  interpreting  itself  to  the  intelli- 
gent reader,  — that  is  the  best  thing.  And  histories  of  our 
Church  also  are  written  with  a  purpose.  There  is  not  one  which 
is  not  colored  with  the  intention  of  its  writer.  Bishop  White's 
"History"  is  the  best,  and  some  of  Frederick  D.  Maurice's 
"Lectures  on  the  Prayer  Book"  have  much  light  in  them.  Let 
your  friends  know  that  the  only  real  "claim"  of  the  Church  is 
the  power  with  which  it  claims  their  souls  and  makes  them  better 
men.  Then  offer  them  its  privileges  if  they  are  humble  and  ear- 
nest enough  to  know  their  need. 

I  hope  that  you  are  well  and  happy,  and  I  am 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  the  Rev.  H.  H.  Montgomery,  on  the  news  of  his  ap- 
pointment as  Bishop  of  Tasmania :  — 

April  13,  1889. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  This  is  indeed  a  startling  letter.  One 
cannot  hear  of  such  a  great  change  in  a  dear  friend's  life  without 
a  moment '8  something  which  is  almost  like  dismay  before  he  lets 
himself  go  freely  into  the  congratulations  which  are  the  true  re- 
sponse to  such  intelligence.  But  I  do  congratulate  you  with  all 
my  heart.  The  great  fresh  world  which  you  will  go  to  will  make 
all  things  new  to  you,  and  you  will  have  the  splendid  sense  of 
building  for  vast  futures,  and  of  touching  the  springs  of  great 
hopes.  It  is  just  what  one  has  longed  for  a  thousand  times,  who 
has  worked  in  a  world  as  old  as  yours,  or  even  as  old  as  ours. 
If  I  were  an  Englishman,  I  would  beg  you  to  take  me  with  you, 
and  make  me  a  humble  canon  or  something  else  which  could  give 
me  a  bit  of  share  in  the  work  which  you  will  do.  May  God  bless 
that  work,  and  make  you  very  happy  in  it. 

Those  who  followed  the  preaching  of  Phillips  Brooks  and 


jet.  53]  CORRESPONDENCE  709 

contrasted  his  later  with  his  earlier  method  were  aware  of 
a  change,  not  only  in  the  form  of  the  sermons,  but  in  the 
manner  of  their  delivery.  Instead  of  standing  unmoved  and 
apparently  impassive,  as  he  has  been  described  while  in 
Philadelphia  or  during  his  first  years  in  Boston,  he  appeared 
to  be  profoundly  moved,  his  physical  system  even  to  be 
shaken  by  the  severe  effort.  "Whether  it  was  that  preaching 
now  exhausted  his  nervous  force,  or  whether  some  other 
cause  must  be  assigned,  it  was  becoming  evident  that  he  was 
not  well.  His  friends  noticed  the  change  in  his  looks  with 
alarm.  The  Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church  sent  to  him  this 
resolution  passed  on  Easter  Monday :  — 

The  Proprietors  would  respectfully  recommend  to  the  Rector, 
in  view  of  the  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  he  has  been 
away  from  us,  and  the  amount  of  work  that  has  fallen  upon  him, 
that  he  take  a  liberal  vacation,  and,  if  possible,  go  abroad. 

The  late  Colonel  Henry  Lee  spoke  what  many  were  feeling 
when  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Brooks :  — 

Boston,  May  3,  1889. 

I  was  shocked,  as  I  have  been  several  times  of  late,  at  your 
appearance.  Who  am  I,  to  meddle  in  your  affairs  ?  Only  one 
of  many  more  thousands  than  you  will  ever  know,  to  whom  your 
existence  is  all  important ;  and  as  one  of  them  I  beg  you  earnestly 
to  cease  your  incessant  work  this  very  day  and  depart,  going  by 
sea  or  land  where  you  can  find  rest  and  recreation.  I  wish  I 
knew  who  was  your  physician.  I  would  urge  him  to  order  you 
off  at  once.  If  you  knew  of  what  importance,  not  only  to  your 
Church,  but  to  the  college,  to  our  city,  to  all  of  us,  is  your  life, 
you  would  do  what  you  can  to  preserve  it. 

As  for  Mr.  Brooks  himself,  while  he  refused  to  admit  that 
he  was  not  as  well  as  ever,  yet  there  is  evidence  that  he  was 
aware  of  the  need  of  some  greater  change  and  of  absolute 
cessation  from  work.  It  had  been  a  mistake,  his  plan  of  tak- 
ing rest  only  in  alternate  years.  Perhaps  it  had  worked  well 
enough  in  earlier  life,  but  it  was  trespassing  on  his  strength, 
or  his  supposed  strength,  to  keep  up  the  practice  longer. 
He  realized  that  the  time  had  come  to  lay  aside  work,  to 
find  some  new  country  where  all  was  fresh  and  strange,  and 


710  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

where  for  a  while  he  might  forget  himself.  So  he  had 
turned  to  Japan.  He  held  long  conversations  with  Rev. 
W.  E.  Griffis,  author  of  the  "Mikado  and  his  Empire," 
who  encouraged  him  to  make  the  venture.  He  read  with 
great  zest  "The  Soul  of  the  Far  East,"  by  Mr.  Percival 
Lowell.  As  the  scheme  took  possession  of  his  mind  he  grew 
enthusiastic  about  its  possibilities.  It  added  to  his  pleasure 
in  contemplating  the  journey  that  he  had  secured  his  friend 
McVickar  for  a  travelling  companion.  If  he  had  misgivings 
about  his  health,  they  do  not  appear  in  his  letters,  which 
seem  to  overflow  with  a  new  buoyancy  of  spirits.  To  Mr. 
McVickar  he  writes :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  20,  1889. 

My  dear  William,  — I  went  down  to  Salem  and  lunched 
with  the  blessed  Frankses.  Then,  after  luncheon,  I  went  over 
and  saw  Professor  Morse,  who  is  the  biggest  authority  on  Japan 
to  be  found  anywhere.  And  such  a  collection  of  bowls  and 
basins,  of  cups  and  candlesticks,  of  jars  and  jimcracks  as  he  has! 
My  mouth  is  watering  and  my  eyes  are  sparkling  even  now,  in 
spite  of  several  Lent  services  which  have  come  in  between.  But 
what  he  says  is  this:  that  Japan  is  perfectly  possible  in  summer; 
that  it  is  very  hot,  but  that  the  heat  is  not  felt  as  much  as  it  is 
here ;  that  you  must  wear  the  thinnest  of  clothing  and  the  straw- 
iest  of  hats,  and  that  it  is  as  healthy  as  you  please.  He  makes 
little  or  nothing  of  the  rainy  season.  Says  it  rains  worst  in  June 
and  September,  but  declares  that  if  we  reach  there  about  mid- 
July,  and  leave  to  come  home  about  September  1,  we  shall  have 
royal  weather. 

It  would  seem,  too,  as  if  Japan  were  a  rather  singularly  easy 
country  to  see.  There  is  a  central  core  of  it  which  apparently 
contains  most  all  which  we  shall  care  to  see.  Yokohama,  Tokio, 
Nikko,  Osaka,  Kioto,  and  perhaps  the  inland  sea  of  Nagasaki. 
These,  with  the  country  and  the  sights  which  lie  between  them, 
are  enough  to  make  us  feel  always  that  we  know  Japan,  and  these 
can  easily  be  compassed  in  six  weeks. 

In  the  afternoon  there  came  to  Jim  Franks 's  study  a  certain 

Captain  H ,  who  has  commanded  steamships  all  about  in  the 

Chinese  and  Japanese  seas,  and  he  had  many  interesting  things 
to  say.  But  the  main  thing  was  that  he,  too,  said  there  was  no 
trouble  about  going  there  in  the  summer,  and  raved,  as  they  all 
do,  about  the  wonderful  beauty  of  it  all. 

And  now,  dear  William,  the  middle  of  June  is  just  upon  us. 


mt.  si]  VISIT   TO  JAPAN  711 

It  will  come  jiki-jiki,  which,  being  interpreted,  is  "toute  de 
suite,"  and  then  we  will  say  to  the  train  at  New  York  some  fine 
morning,  Peggi,  which  means  "Go  along,"  and  before  we  know 
it  we  are  there.  Jim  thinks  he  cannot  go,  which  is  so  much  the 
worse  for  him.  But  we  will  go,  and  all  the  parish  apparatus 
and  routine  shall  be  for  three  good  months  as  if  it  were  not. 
Won't  it  be  fine? 

Isn't  it  sad  about ?     Dear  me,  if  that  splendid  fellow 

has  indeed  given  way,  who  of  us  is  there  that  can  be  sure  of  him- 
self for  an  hour?     And  yet  there  are  encouragements  as  well. 

Here  is  getting  engaged  and  starting  out  on  a  new  life 

when  it  seems  as  if  he  would  think  things  were  about  through 
with  him.  He  's  like  the  fellow  who  lights  up  a  new  cigar  just 
when  it  seems  as  if  bedtime  had  really  come.  But  there  is  a 
splendid  courage  about  it,  and  it  almost  makes  one  ready  to  fling 
prudence  to  the  winds  and  go  in  for  it  himself.  But  I  guess  I 
won't,  on  the  whole. 

I  can  hear  the  chatter  of  Japanese  tongues  and  the  clatter  of 
Japanese  crockery  in  the  distance,  but  just  now  I  must  get  ready 
for  service,  and  so  must  you. 

Affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 

Mr.  Brooks  left  Boston  on  the  10th  of  June  for  the  ride 
across  the  continent,  breaking  the  journey  at  Salt  Lake 
City,  where  he  spent  a  Sunday,  and  visited  the  Mormon 
Tabernacle.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  been  impressed  by 
the  appearance  of  the  people,  or  by  the  features  of  their  civi- 
lization. On  the  20th  of  June  he  sailed  from  San  Francisco 
for  Yokohama  in  the  steamship  City  of  Sydney.  There  were 
but  two  passengers  on  board  besides  himself  and  Dr.  Mc- 
Vickar.  The  eighteen  days  passed  quietly,  for  the  ocean 
was  calm,  and  the  only  event  which  appealed  to  his  imagina- 
tion was  the  dropping  of  one  day  from  the  record  of  time, 
Monday,  July  the  1st.  "The  lost  day!  Think  what  might 
have  come  of  it !     The  undone  deeds !     The  unsaid  words !  " 

These  are  extracts  from  his  note-book  written  on  ship- 
board :  — 

Difference  between  "a  good  fellow"  and  a  good  man. 
Preach  on  the  tone  of  life,  high  or  low,  apart  from  special 
acts. 

Over  the  prairies  racing  the  moon.     Wednesday,  June  12. 
Text,   "God  hath  laid  on  Him  the  iniquity  of  us  all."     The 


7i2  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

way  men  bear  each  other's  sins.  The  great  sinful  world  on  men's 
shoulders.      Ah !  there  's  the  key !     Imagine  that  complete. 

Those  wise  blinds,  through  which  you  can  see  out,  but  cannot 
see  in. 

"Thou  hast  wrestled  and  prevailed."  The  deeper  life.  The 
only  question  left,  How  to  do  one's  duty. 

"I  will  not  do  this  wicked  thing  and  sin  against  God."  The 
special  definite  resolve. 

"Unless  the  Lord  build  the  house,  their  labor  is  but  vain  that 
build  it."     The  inner  spiritual  building  of  everything. 

"Then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest."  The  deep  impulse 
of  escape  and  retirement. 

I  would  like  to  do  one  thing  perfectly,  and  do  only  that  the 
rest  of  my  life.      Yet,  no ! 

A  "spent  sea"  in  history;  e.  g.,  the  ages  following  the  seven- 
teenth century. 

"Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
What!  a  child's  paradise? 
No!  the  eternal  childlike, 

The  Child  in  all  great,  simple  actions. 

Like  the  captain's  view  of  things  at  sea,  so  different  from  the 
landsman  passenger's. 

The  question  whether  all  life  is  to  be  drawn  in,  —  its  great 
expansion  into  the  supernatural  denied  it.  Intention  for  exten- 
sion.    The  world  it  would  make.     Try  to  depict. 

"And  the  land  had  rest  fourscore  years."  The  worth  and 
dangers  of  rest. 

Awful  the  convulsion  that  does  nothing.  The  beauty  of  our 
war.     It  killed  Slavery. 

What  is  the  greatest,  noblest,  finest  deed  ever  done  on  this 
earth  ?     What  if  we  could  put  our  finger  on  it ! 

Jehoram  "reigned  in  Jerusalem  eight  years  and  departed  with- 
out being  desired."     The  being  missed  and  its  natural  desire. 

The  Son  can  do  nothing  of  Himself,  but  what  He  seeth  the 
Father  do.  Christianity  all  in  the  line  of  God's  great  first  pur- 
poses. 

Coming  in  sight  of  a  new  land  (Japan),  with  its  mysterious 
multitudinous  history,  set  in  the  ancient  halls,  like  coming  in 
sight  of  another  man's  life  with  its  mystery.      July  8,  1889. 

That  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  the  happiest  of  moods  during  the 
long  idle  days  of  the  ocean  journey  is  shown  by  his  rever- 
sion to    poetry.     He   was   writing   Christmas    and   Easter 


mt.  53]  CHRISTMAS   CAROLS  713 

carols,  for  which  he  had  a  peculiar  gift  or  combination  of 
gifts,  —  his  grasp  upon  the  large  primitive  instincts  of  life, 
and  the  child's  gladness  and  simplicity  of  nature.  The  joy 
of  many  Easter  and  Christmas  festivals  wherein  he  had 
rejoiced  as  if  a  child  himself  with  the  children,  keeping  his 
faith  the  stronger  because  of  his  sympathy  with  childhood, 
—  all  this  comes  out  in  these  carols,  which  he  seems  to  have 
written  with  great  ease,  as  if  they  had  long  been  singing  in 
his  heart.  But  beneath  them  is  the  vivid  consciousness  of 
the  possible  perversion  of  theology.  Thus  among  his  notes 
he  speaks  of  the  expression  the  "visitation  of  God,"  which 
in  mediaeval  theology  stood  for  the  inexplicable  calamities  of 
life,  and  the  higher  idea  of  God's  visitation  of  the  world  at 
Christmas  tide. 

The  silent  stars  are  full  of  speech 

For  who  hath  ears  to  hear ; 
The  winds  are  whispering  each  to  each, 
And  stars  their  sacred  lessons  teach 

Of  faith  and  hope  and  fear. 

But  once  the  sky  its  silence  broke, 

And  song  o'erflowed  the  earth ; 
And  Angels  mortal  language  spoke, 
When  God  our  human  utterance  took, 

In  Christ  the  Saviour's  birth. 

This  was  the  first  rapid  sketch  of  one  of  the  Christmas 
carols.     Another  begins  with  the  lines:  — 

The  earth  has  grown  old  with  its  burden  of  care, 
But  at  Christmas  it  always  is  young. 

And  a  third :  — 

Everywhere,  everywhere,  Christmas  to-night! 

This  Easter  carol  also,  which  has  become  widely  popular :  — 

Tomb,  thou  shalt  not  hold  Him  longer ! 
Death  is  strong,  but  life  is  stronger. 

In  the  letters  from  Japan,  Mr.  Brooks  speaks  of  his  jour- 
ney as  a  great  success.     The  weather  was  unusually  fine. 

I  do  not   think  there  can  be  a  place  anywhere  in  the  world 
more  suitable  for  pure  relaxation.   ...   Of  all  bright,    pretty 


714  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

places,  it  is  the  prettiest  and  the  brightest.  ...  It  is  very  fas- 
cinating, the  merriest,  kindest,  and  most  graceful  people,  who  seem 
as  glad  to  see  you  as  if  they  had  been  waiting  for  you  all  their 
years,  and  make  you  feel  as  if  their  houses  were  yours  the  mo- 
ment you  cross  the  threshold,  .  .  .  as  if  good  manners  and  civ- 
ility were  the  only  ends  in  life.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it, 
and  the  fascination  grows  with  every  new  street  picture  that  one 
sees. 

We  have  had  most  hospitable  welcome  from  American  and 
English  people ;  almost  every  night  in  Yokohama  we  dined  out, 
and  here  we  have  been  given  rooms  at  the  club,  which  is  a  Gov- 
ernment affair  and  most  comfortable.  To-morrow  night  we  are 
to  dine  with  the  English  Bishop  of  Japan,  and  there  is  more  of 
courtesy  and  kindness  than  we  can  accept. 

While  most  of  the  time  was  spent  in  travelling,  and  get- 
ting acquainted  with  what  was  most  distinctive  of  the  coun- 
try, no  opportunities  were  lost  of  meeting  the  missionaries, 
and  learning  of  their  work.  He  was  greatly  impressed  with 
Bishop  Williams,  of  the  American  Mission.  He  came  across 
one  of  the  missionaries  engaged  in  translating  into  Japanese 
"Pearson  on  the  Creed,"  an  elaborate  and  learned  work  of 
Anglican  theology  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  thought 
it  unwise  to  confuse  the  minds  of  the  Japanese  with  the 
technicalities  and  processes  through  which  the  Western  mind 
had  passed.     Once  only  did  he  preach. 

In  his  letters  home  he  speaks  of  the  impression  which  he 
and  Dr.  McVickar  made  upon  the  Japanese  by  their  unusual 
size.  He  was  afraid  that  the  jinrikisha  men  would  rebel  at 
the  burden,  but  that  happened  only  once.  The  Japanese 
were  curious  to  get  the  measurements  of  the  head  and  hands 
and  feet  of  their  extraordinary  guest.  The  children  called 
out,  Daibutsu,  which  means  the  image  of  the  great  Buddha. 

Kioto,  August  1, 1889. 
My  dear  Bob,  —  I  am  anxious  to  send  you  all  at  least  one 
greeting  from  this  queer  and  interesting  land,  and  I  must  do  it 
quick  or  not  at  all,  for  our  short  time  here  is  half  exhausted  and 
the  next  steamer  but  one  will  carry  us  to  San  Francisco.  The 
journey  has  been  a  great  success  thus  far,  and  here  we  are  perched 
on  a  breezy  hill  just  outside  of  the  brightest  and  gayest  of  Japa- 
nese cities  with  such  a  view  of  the  confused  and  jumbled  town 


jet.  S3]  VISIT   TO  JAPAN  715 

and  the  high  hills  beyond  as  not  many  city  suburbs  can  furnish. 
It  is  a  hot,  sweltering  afternoon.  All  the  morning  we  have  been 
looking  at  Mikado's  Palaces  and  Buddhist  Temples,  dragged  in 
jinrikishas  through  picturesque  and  crowded  streets  by  trotting 
coolies  who  must  remember  us  and  hate  us  all  the  rest  of  their 
miserable  lives.  Now  in  the  quiet  afternoon  there  is  a  pleasant 
wind  blowing  across  the  hotel  veranda,  and  all  the  time  there 
comes  the  monotonous  and  soothing  music  of  a  Buddhist  drum 
which  a  poor  priest  is  beating  at  the  Temple  close  to  us,  and 
which  never  seems  to  pause  an  instant  from  the  sun's  rising  to  its 
setting.  It  is  all  as  calm  and  beautiful  and  different  from  Bos- 
ton as  anything  can  be.  The  bamboos  are  waving  gracefully  in 
the  foreground  and  the  pines  are  standing  majestically  behind. 
Japan  is  rich  in  both,  and  they  are  pictures  of  the  way  in  which 
strength  and  grace  meet  in  her  history  remarkably. 

We  are  now  in  our  fourth  week  on  shore,  and  indeed  I  do  not 
know  how  any  one  could  make  for  himself  a  more  delightful  sum- 
mer than  by  doing  just  what  we  have  done.  A  swift  run  across 
the  continent,  a  slow  and  peaceful  sail  on  the  Pacific,  and  then 
this  phantasmagoria  of  color  and  life  and  movement  for  six  de- 
lightful weeks.  And  then  the  return  over  the  familiar  ways  with 
much  to  think  about  and  one's  brain  full  of  pictures.  What  could 
be  better  than  that  ? 

Do  you  remember  our  meeting  Harleston  Deacon  long  ago  up 
among  the  barren  heights  of  Auk?  I  found  him  this  year  among 
the  temples  of  Nikko,  the  sacredest  of  Japanese  sacred  places,  and 
the  deep  thunder  of  his  voice  mingled  beautifully  with  the  chanting 
of  the  priest.  There,  also,  were  Bigelow  and  Fenollosa,  both 
very  interesting  men.  Besides  them  we  have  seen  our  missiona- 
ries and  something  of  their  work,  though  the  schools  are  mostly 
now  in  summer  vacation.  They  are  good  strong  men,  and  the 
work  which  they  are  doing  will  be  a  true  contribution  to  the  du- 
bious future  of  Japan. 

But  I  wish  I  knew  just  how  it  is  faring  with  you  all.  An 
afternoon  on  the  terrace  at  Waltham  would  even  more  than  repay 
the  loss  even  of  this  pretty  scene,  and  the  strange  sights  which 
we  shall  see  when  we  go  out  as  it  gets  cooler.  Better  still,  if 
you  were  all  here !  But  we  will  meet  soon,  and  meanwhile  be 
sure  that  I  am  thinking  of  you  and  wishing  you  all  good.  My 
best  of  love  to  Mrs.  Paine  and  all  the  children  and  the  grandchil- 
dren, and  I  am,  dear  Bob, 

Ever  affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 

On  the  return  voyage  he  resumes  his  note-book :  — 


716  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

The  strange  personalness  of  a  new  land;  becoming  "ac- 
quainted "  with  it. 

As  the  Japanese  build  their  houses  to  suit  their  mats. 

The  Japanese  smiling  as  he  tells  of  his  mother's  death. 

Japan  strangely  self-conscious.  Lack  of  sense  of  individuality 
in  the  East. 

"Why  pluckest  thou  not  thy  right  hand  out  of  thy  bosom  to 
consume  the  enemy  ?  "  The  apparent  indifference  of  God.  What 
is  God's  enemy? 

The  thing  which  is  done  upon  earth,  He  doeth  it  Himself. 

Both  engine  and  brake.  Conservatism  and  radicalism  parts  of 
the  same  machine. 

Sermon  on  a  man's  discovering  a  meanness  in  himself  from 
which  he  thought  he  was  free  (coming  from  new  circumstances, 
e.  ff.,  travelling). 

Sermon  on  outgrowing  temptations,  falsely  made  cause  for 
complacency.  Like  passing  railway  stations;  the  new  ones  are 
the  old  ones  under  new  forms. 

The  ultimate  mystery  of  life  is  personality.  All  which  stops 
short  of  that  is  partial. 

The  impressions  of  nature,  the  truths  of  science,  all  less  than 
personal  relations.  The  only  final  means  of  revelation.  Recon- 
ciliation. The  secret  of  Christ.  God  sent  forth  His  Son.  Two 
kinds  of  religion,  —  truth  and  person.  All  religions  develop 
both.     Love  and  faith  are  the  powers. 

Houses  for  earthquake,  built  either  very  slight  or  very  solid. 

R.  S.  V.  P.      So  says  nature  with  her  invitations. 

A  man  behind  whose  closed  eyelids  light  and  darkness  show 
their  difference,  though  he  can  distinctly  see  no  object. 

The  latitude  and  longitude  of  life. 

"Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life."      Christ  the  key  of  existence,  not  Buddha,  nor  any  other. 

The  Japanese  giving  a  new  name  at  the  time  of  death.  The  new 
name  of  the  new  life  kept  hung  up  in  the  sacred  place  of  the  house. 

"While  I  am  coming  another  steppeth  in  before  me."  Com- 
petition, —  its  naturalness  and  unnaturalness ;  its  advantages  and 
horrors.  Sure  to  be  some  day  outgrown.  As  a  method  so  often 
used  for  other  things. 

Mark  iii.  21.  Christ's  friends,  not  His  enemies,  said,  He  is 
beside  Himself,  and  wanted  to  restrain  Him.  The  limitations 
that  Christians  put  to  Christ. 

Mark  v.  7.  The  demoniac  crying  out,  "What  have  I  to  do 
with  thee,  Jesus  ?  "  But  Jesus  shows  that  He  has  something  to 
do  with  the  Son  of  God. 


jet.  si]    EXTRACTS   FROM  JOURNAL        717 

"That  the  things  which  cannot  he  shaken  may  remain." 

The  spider  spins  his  web  in  the  rice-pot.  Japanese  phrase  for 
poverty. 

You  might  as  well  think  to  help  the  moon  fighting  its  battle 
with  the  clouds. 

The  balance  and  cooperation  of  content  and  discontent. 

A  law,  a  truth,  an  institution,  a  Person.  Which  is  Christian- 
ity?    There  can  be  no  doubt. 

The  East  haunted  by  the  problems  of  reality  and  apparition, 
as  well  as  by  that  of  personality  and  impersonality. 

The  present  with  the  future  on  its  back,  like  a  Japanese  mother 
and  her  child. 

Shakespeare's  true  apology  for  art:  — 

Yet  nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean, 
But  nature  makes  that  mean. 

Sermon  on  the  variety  of  aspect  of  religion  in  the  various  ages 
of  life,  — youth's  activity  and  middle  age. 

The  rising  tide  catching  one  against  a  precipitous  wall.  Es- 
cape impossible. 

If  we  hope  for  that  we  have  not,  then  we  work  for  it. 

The  whole  meaning  of  Reconciliation. 

"My  people."  God's  word  for  the  Jews.  Its  larger  equiva- 
lent.     The  pastor  and  his  parish. 

"Get  thee  behind  me."  The  everlasting  word  to  the  tempter. 
Who  cannot  say  it,  dies. 

"A  dislike  in  the  mass  is  a  prejudice."  Victor  Hugo,  "Toilers 
of  the  Sea,"  p.  61. 

Lives  haunted  like  houses. 

A  man  who  is  a  pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  a  pillar  of  fire  by 
night. 

The  Shinto  (ancestor- worship)  of  Boston. 

Losing  a  Tuesday  going  over  and  picking  up  a  Thursday  com- 
ing back. 

August  28,  1889,  lived  twice  on  the  Pacific. 

Pride  before  destruction.  The  great  danger  of  boasting. 
Our  liability  to  the  sins  from  which  we  think  ourselves  most 
secure. 

A  man's  suffering  till  the  consequences  of  his  sin  are  exhausted. 

Japanese  preserving  political  traditions  in  the  manner  of  mak- 
ing or  serving  tea. 

"There  is  nothing  hidden  that  shall  not  be  revealed,  neither 
hid  that  shall  not  be  known."  The  kind  of  world  that  perfect 
light  shall  make,  and  the  kind  of  life  in  waiting  for  it. 


718  PHILLIPS    BROOKS  [1889 

He  shall  save  his  soul  alive. 

Ashamed  of  himself.      Filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God. 
Evening  and  morning  were  the  first  day.      Ending  and  begin- 
ning everywhere. 
A  man  in  Christ. 

By  the  middle  of  September  Mr.  Brooks  was  again  in 
Boston,  and  had  resumed  his  work.  While  he  was  in  Japan 
he  had  not  been  well,  and  his  enjoyment  of  what  he  saw,  or 
of  the  hospitalities  extended  to  him,  had  in  consequence 
been  diminished.  He  was  the  better,  however,  for  the 
change,  better  than  if  he  had  tried  to  spend  "a  lazy  summer  " 
at  home,  as  he  at  one  time  proposed  to  do.  To  the  world  he 
seemed  vigorous  and  strong,  or,  as  one  of  his  friends  abroad 
wrote  to  him,  "the  happiest  and  hopefullest  man  I  know." 

At  Trinity  Church,  the  first  Sunday  after  his  return,  he 
spoke  of  God's  ownership  of  the  world,  as  giving  it  beauty 
and  value:  "The  earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the  fulness  thereof; 
the  world  and  they  that  dwell  therein."  With  what  interest 
he  was  followed  is  shown  in  this  extract  from  a  daily 
paper : — 

As  he  passed  quietly  in  to  begin  the  service  he  looked  and 
moved  with  all  his  old-time  vigor,  although  some  might  fancy 
that  his  massive  frame  betrayed  an  appreciable  loss  of  flesh.  A 
slight  cough,  too,  was  also  noticed  during  the  reciting  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  service.  To  the  friends  who  embraced  an  opportunity 
to  greet  him,  he  manifested  his  unvarying  cheerfulness  and  vi- 
vacity. It  was  in  the  pulpit,  as  always,  that  he  appeared  with 
all  the  fulness  of  his  personality  and  mental  powers,  and  when  he 
spoke,  it  was  with  a  torrent  of  language  and  abounding  imagery 
that  seemed  to  have  gathered  even  more  than  the  customary  mo- 
mentum from  contact  with  the  Oriental  glow  of  life  and  scenes. 
Whether  from  association  with  these,  or  from  the  feelings  evoked 
by  return  to  the  family  of  his  congregation,  he  supplemented  his 
unsurpassed  rapidity  of  thought  and  utterance  with  more  than  his 
usual  emotional  quality. 

On  the  second  Sunday  after  his  return  he  went  to  Cam- 
bridge to  address  the  students  at  the  opening  of  a  new  year 
of  college  life.  He  spoke  of  the  new  system  of  voluntary 
prayers  as  no  longer  an  experiment.     "Hitherto  there  had 


at.  53]       GENERAL  CONVENTION  719 

been  a  certain  self -consciousness  about  it  which  it  was  now 
time  to  drop.  It  was  the  legitimate  successor  of  all  the  best 
religious  influence."  He  urged  upon  the  students  to  give 
their  best  to  the  college  if  they  would  get  its  best  in  return, 
"  treat  it  not  as  a  playground  or  living  shop,  but  as  a  living 
being  with  a  soul  caring  for  spiritual  nature,  and  it  will 
bestow  its  riches,  for  indeed  it  has  them."  The  address  was 
noticeable  for  its  intense  earnestness.  His  love  for  Harvard 
came  out  in  a  few  sentences  at  its  close.  "Many  noble  men 
have  rejoiced  to  live  for  the  College,  asking  nothing  as  they 
grew  old  but  to  do  something  more  for  her  before  they  died. 
"Will  you  join  their  army?  What  she  asks  of  you  is  to  be 
as  full  men  as  you  can,  for  so  her  life  grows  fuller." 

The  General  Convention  met  in  New  York  in  October, 
when  he  was  the  guest  of  his  brother  Arthur.  It  was  quiet 
compared  with  that  in  Chicago,  three  years  before,  and  the 
proposal  to  change  the  name  of  the  Church  was  not  renewed, 
as  he  had  wrongly  prophesied.  He  took  part  in  the  discus- 
sions on  the  revision  of  the  Prayer  Book,  urging  the  substi- 
tution of  Psalm  lxiv  for  Psalm  Ixix  in  the  Evening  Prayer 
for  Good  Friday.  "We  listen  to  Jesus  crying,  'Father,  for- 
give them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do,'  and  then  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  say,  '  Let  their  table  be  made  a  snare,  to  take 
themselves  withal,'"  etc.  In  the  debate  on  recommitting 
the  Prayer  Book  for  further  revision,  he  expressed  the  hope 
that  the  task  would  be  continued  for  three  years  longer,  for 
many  points  needed  further  consideration.  He  spoke  against 
introducing  the  versicles,  "O  God,  make  speed  to  save  us," 
"O  Lord,  make  haste  to  help  us,"  on  the  ground  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  purpose  was  to  seek  uniformity  with  the 
English  book  even  in  small  details,  rather  than  to  meet  any 
great  demand  for  new  forms  of  devout  expression  in  view  of 
the  changed  conditions  which  prevail  in  our  great  and  new 
Western  land. 

In  a  proposed  canon  on  marriage  and  divorce  Mr.  Brooks 
objected  to  a  phrase  forbidding  "clandestine  marriages:" 
"  If  we  are  to  forbid  a  thing,  we  must  have  some  penalty  for  its 
disobedience,  which  in  this  case  would  obviously  be  exclusion 


720  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1889 

from  Holy  Communion."  He  should  feel  himself  unable  to 
deny  the  sacrament  to  people  who  in  their  youth  had  been 
indiscreet  enough  to  make  a  clandestine  marriage.  "There 
is  a  danger  of  making  marriage  too  difficult. "  The  subject 
of  "divorce"  had  been  in  his  mind  as  he  was  returning  home 
from  Japan.  In  his  note-book  he  expresses  hints  of  his 
opinion. 

The  "putting  away,"  which  Christ  condemned,  was  not  the 
equivalent  of  our  present  divorce  system ;  it  was  purely  arbitrary, 
with  no  trial  or  opportunity  of  defence,  the  man's  right  only, 
while  the  woman  had  no  corresponding  power;  it  was  originally 
for  some  cause  which  includes  more  than  adultery,  and  it  allowed 
remarriage  (Deut.  xxiv.  2).  Our  divorce  is  a  different  matter, 
involving  different  necessities.  The  Mosaic  institution  which 
Christ  modified  had  reference  to  inheritance  and  preservation  of 
purity  of  descent.  There  are  strong  objections  to  using  the 
Holy  Communion  for  enforcing  a  position  on  this  subject,  espe- 
cially in  the  matter  of  its  administration  to  the  dying,  in  view 
of  the  perfect  conscience  with  which  divorces  are  obtained.  It 
would  be  more  consistent  to  deny  divorce  altogether.  But  the 
whole  question  is  not  a  clear  one  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
Christian  nations  have  so  differed  regarding  it  and  so  differ  still. 
Circumstances  have  changed  since  the  time  of  Christ.  The  spirit 
is  more  than  the  letter. 

On  his  return  from  the  General  Convention,  Mr.  Brooks 
preached  a  sermon  at  Trinity  Church  more  hopeful  in  its 
tone  than  his  sermon  in  1886.  He  reviewed  the  results  the 
convention  had  accomplished  in  a  kindly  way,  declaring 
himself  not  altogether  in  sympathy  with  the  changes  made 
in  the  Prayer  Book,  but  speaking  of  the  convention  as  an 
inspiring  one  in  its  manifestation  of  high  moral  purpose,  in 
its  desire  for  Christian  unity,  and  in  its  zeal  for  missionary 
work.  He  went  to  the  Episcopalian  Club,  where  the  con- 
vention was  passed  in  review,  making  a  speech  which  pleased 
and  satisfied  its  members  and  was  pronounced  by  some  to  be 
"churchly."  He  was  apparently  forgiven  for  what  he  had 
said  of  the  convention  of  1886.  But  he  was  so  genuine,  so 
rational,  so  human,  that  forgiveness  was  not  difficult  to 
grant. 


jet.  53]  PROHIBITION  721 

Two  sermons  of  Phillips  Brooks  are  notable  for  his  advo- 
cacy in  his  own  way  of  causes  of  social  and  political  reform. 
On  Fast  Day  he  discussed  "the  public  schools"  and  "pro- 
hibition." In  regard  to  the  first  he  maintained  that  the  state 
has  incorporated  its  best  ideas  in  the  public  schools,  the 
three  essentials  of  character  without  which  a  state  cannot  ex- 
ist —  freedom,  intelligence,  and  responsibility.  Not  only  the 
right  of  the  state,  but  its  duty  in  this  matter  of  primary 
education  must  be  boldly  maintained.  If  scholars  were  to 
be  withdrawn  from  the  public  schools  into  private  institutions, 
the  state  must  assert  its  prerogative  and  enforce  on  them  its 
principles,  insisting  that  they  shall  be  the  equals  of  the  pub- 
lic schools  in  cultivating  freedom,  intelligence,  and  responsi- 
bility. 

On  the  subject  of  prohibition  he  declared  his  preference 
for  restrictive  legislation  as  the  true  policy,  on  the  ground 
that  it  gave  the  opportunity  for  self-control.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  his  interest  in  the  end  to  be  attained  was  so  real 
and  absorbing  that  he  could  say :  — 

I  have  no  charge  or  reproach  to  make  against  the  most  extrav- 
agant temperance  reformer.  I  can  understand  the  intensity  of 
his  feeling,  which  urges  the  most  sweeping  laws  which  he  can 
secure.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  instead  of  legal  restriction,  the 
great  advance  in  this  direction  is  to  arouse  the  conscience  of  the 
people  to  live  for  the  State  and  for  their  fellow  men,  and  not  for 
themselves;  to  let  no  selfish  desire  stand  in  the  way  of  any  rea- 
sonable measure  which  shall  help  to  overcome  this  evil.  It  does 
no  good  to  champion  this  or  that  public  measure,  while  as  yet 
our  own  hearts  and  consciences  are  untouched.  In  this  as  in 
similar  matters  it  is  very  easy  for  intense  earnestness  to  develop 
into  mere  partisanship,  in  which  condition  we  oppose  all  plans 
which  do  not  harmonize  with  our  own,  even  though  they  may  con- 
tain much  good.  Rather  let  us  keep  ourselves  pure  and  broad, 
ready  to  accept  any  truest  and  best  method  by  which  at  the  time 
our  purpose  may  be  achieved. 

He  preached  a  sermon  on  Civil  Service  Reform,  in  re- 
sponse to  a  request  that  the  clergy  would  treat  the  subject 
from  their  pulpits  on  Thanksgiving  Day.  The  sermon  was, 
however,  given  the  following  Sunday,  with  this  preface :  — 

vol.  n 


722  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1889 

When  Thanksgiving  morning  came,  it  seemed  impossible  to 
preach  it,  with  a  furious  fire  raging  in  the  city,  awakening  awful 
memories  of  the  old  conflagration  and  baffling  all  prediction  as  to 
where  it  would  be  stopped.  With  everybody  anxious  and  excited, 
it  seemed  quite  impossible  to  ask  those  who  came  to  church  to  sit 
quietly  and  listen  to  a  discussion  on  the  meaning  and  duty  of 
Civil  Service  Reform. 

The  interest  of  the  sermon  lies  in  revealing  his  devotion  to 
the  idea  of  nationality,  and  to  the  underlying  principles  of  a 
republican  form  of  government.  The  text  was  from  the  Old 
Testament,  "Ye  shall  be  unto  me  a  kingdom  of  priests  and 
a  holy  nation.  These  are  the  words  that  thou  shalt  speak 
unto  the  kingdom  of  Israel"  (Exodus  xix.  6).  That  one 
should  take  a  text  from  the  Old  Testament  for  Civil  Service 
Reform  might  appear  to  some,  he  said,  as  evidence  of  the 
incompetence  of  the  clergy  to  deal  with  living  political 
issues. 

The  old  reproach  of  ministers  that  they  lived  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  preached  about  the  sins  and  virtues  of  the  Patriarchs, 
and  not  about  the  sins  and  virtues  of  the  modern  world,  is  perhaps 
obsolete.  It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  ask  how  far  it  was  ever 
deserved.  That  which  it  most  concerns  us  to  observe  about  it  is 
the  misconception  which  it  indicated,  on  the  part  both  of  preach- 
ers and  of  hearers,  of  the  true  place  and  use  of  that  wonderful 
portion  of  the  word  of  God  in  which  the  story  of  God's  dealings 
with  his  chosen  people  is  related.  The  history  of  the  Jews  ap- 
peared to  some  men  to  be  an  utterly  outgrown,  uninteresting 
record  of  a  people  who  perished  as  a  nation  centuries  ago,  and 
the  constant  recurrence  to  it  seemed  to  be  a  hopeless  effort  arti- 
ficially to  keep  alive  the  dead.  To  other  men  it  seemed  as  if 
many,  at  least,  if  not  all,  of  the  details  of  Jewish  life  were  of 
perpetual  obligation,  patterns  to  be  mechanically  copied  and  re- 
peated to  the  end  of  time. 

He  commented  on  the  Old  Testament  as  still  the  "  au- 
thoritative text-book  of  nationality,"  despite  the  manifest 
failures  to  enforce  its  teaching  in  Christian  history,  as  in  the 
notion  of  the  divine  right  of  kings,  or  in  Puritan  attempts  to 
make  the  law  of  Moses  the  law  of  God  for  modern  life. 
"God,  may  we  not  say,  was  too  present  with  His  modern 
world  to  let  them  treat  Him  as  if  He  had  died  two  thousand 


jet.  $3]      CIVIL   SERVICE   REFORM  723 

years  ago."  But  the  thought  of  the  Old  Testament  lives  on. 
The  nation  is  sacred  and  struggles  to  assert  its  sacredness. 
"At  the  moment  when  it  almost  seemed  as  if  the  notion  of 
the  sanctity  of  the  state  had  perished,  and  nations  were  com- 
ing to  be  regarded  as  only  joint  stock  companies  for  mutual 
advantage,  —  there  has  come  this  wonderful  thing,  the  sa- 
credness of  human  life,  standing  up  and  demanding  recog- 
nition:"— 

Republican  government  is  open  to  the  influx  of  the  essential 
sacredness  of  human  life  itself. 

The  essential  nature  of  humanity  is  so  divine  that  every  effort 
of  man  after  self-government  is  a  true  echo  of  the  life  of  God. 

The  simplest  republic  is  sacred  as  no  most  splendid  monarchy 
could  ever  be. 

The  divinity  which  used  to  hedge  a  king  fills  all  the  sacred  life 
of  a  free  people. 

Not  down  from  above  by  arbitrary  decree,  but  up  from  below, 
out  from  within  by  essential  necessity,  proceeds  the  warrant  of 
authority. 

The  sacredness  of  man,  of  the  individual  man ;  the  cultivation, 
not  the  repression,  of  his  personality;  individualism  not  institu- 
tionalism;  institutions  only  for  the  free  characteristic  develop- 
ment of  the  individual,  —  those  are  the  tokens  of  healthy  life,  the 
watchwords  of  true  progress. 

A  state  in  which  the  people  rule  themselves  is  able  to  realize 
the  sacredness  of  the  nation  more  profoundly  than  any  other. 

Popular  government  is  not  the  last  desperate  hope  of  man,  un- 
dertaken because  everything  else  has  failed.  It  is  the  consum- 
mation toward  which  every  previous  experiment  of  man  has  strug- 
gled. It  is  no  reckless  slipping  down  into  the  depth  of  anarchy. 
It  is  a  climbing  to  the  mountain  top  of  legitimate  authority. 

The  public  officer  embodies  the  nation's  character,  expresses 
its  spirit  and  its  sanctity.  The  public  servant  is  not  simply  a 
man  hired  by  the  State  to  do  a  certain  work.  He  is  the  State 
itself  doing  that  work  and  so  making  manifest  at  one  point  its 
intrinsic  life  and  character. 

Is  popular  government  naturally  disposed  to  corruption  and 
misrule,  and  so  must  you  force  upon  it  against  its  nature  an  in- 
tegrity and  unselfishness  which  it  instinctively  hates  and  despises, 
or  is  it  the  constant  struggle  of  popular  government  to  bring  its 
best  men  to  power,  and  have  you  only  to  work  in  confederation 
with  that  struggle  and  against  the  enemies  which  hinder  its 
success  ? 


724  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1889 

To  make  America  to  be  more  truly  American,  with  a  pro- 
founder  faith  in  and  loyalty  to  herself,  to  resist  any  attempt  to 
impose  the  will  of  a  man  or  a  party  on  the  free  action  of  Ameri- 
cans, this  sums  up  the  duty  of  every  reformer  who  believes  that 
thus  strengthened  and  set  free,  America  will  of  her  own  nature 
send  forth  her  own  true  governors. 

That  he  shared  in  the  prevailing  sense  of  anxiety  about 
the  country  which  was  prevalent  at  the  time  is  evident  from 
this  passage :  — 

"We  cannot  forget  the  stress  and  strain  to  which,  as  all  men 
feel,  the  whole  system  of  human  government,  popular  government 
like  every  other,  is  evidently  in  the  near  future  of  the  world  to 
be  subjected.  We  believe  in  our  institutions  as  we  believe  in  a 
strong  ship  in  which  we  sail  out  upon  the  sea.  But  we  cannot 
look  forth  upon  the  sea  on  which  we  are  to  sail  and  not  behold  it 
black  with  threatening  storms.  We  are  full  of  faith  that  the 
good  ship  will  weather  them,  but  what  fools  we  are  unless  we 
look  not  merely  to  the  soundness  of  the  timbers  which  compose 
her  structure,  but  also  to  the  character  of  her  officers  and  crew! 
In  the  great  trial  of  popular  institutions  which  is  coming,  the 
most  critical  of  all  questions  concerning  them  will  be  as  to  their 
power  to  control  their  own  leadership  and  to  express  the  better 
and  stronger,  and  not  the  worse  and  weaker,  portions  of  their  life 
through  those  whom  the  nation  calls  from  the  mass  of  her  citizens 
and  sets  in  public  stations. 

During  the  month  of  November  Mr.  Brooks  was  conduct- 
ing prayers  at  Harvard,  as  he  had  also  given  his  quota  of 
Sunday  evenings  to  Appleton  Chapel  from  time  to  time 
throughout  the  year.  But  for  some  reason,  probably  the  ill 
health  which  had  been  so  visible  in  his  face  and  in  the 
shrinkage  of  his  form  in  the  spring  as  to  induce  much  com- 
ment, he  had  not  enjoyed  the  work  at  Harvard  as  in  pre- 
vious years.  He  spoke  of  his  period  of  service  there  as 
"distinctly  an  off  term,"  intimating  that  the  sound  of  his 
voice  had  grown  familiar  and  tiresome.  For  whatever  reason 
he  seemed  disappointed,  and  at  moments  inclined  to  dreary 
forebodings  about  the  future. 

To  an  invitation  from  Rev.  Lyman  Abbott  to  take  part  in 
the  services  of  his  installation  as  pastor  of  Plymouth  Church, 
Mr.  Brooks  wrote  the  following  letter :  — 


at.  S3]      EVANGELICAL   ALLIANCE  725 

Wadsworth  House,  Cambridge,  December  2,  1889. 

Dear  Dr.  Abbott,  —  ...  I  thank  you  for  the  friendly  im- 
pulse which  made  you  wish  that  I  should  come  and  take  any  part 
in  the  most  interesting  service  of  your  installation.  I  value  that 
impulse  of  yours  very  deeply,  and  I  always  shall.  I  may  most 
frankly  say  that  there  is  no  man  from  whom  I  should  more  joy- 
fully receive  such  a  token  of  confidence  and  affection. 

I  should  like  exceedingly  to  come.  I  would  make  every  effort 
to  do  so.  There  is  nothing,  I  am  sure,  in  any  canon  or  rubric 
which  would  prevent  my  coming.  I  am  not  very  wise  in  rubrics 
or  canons,  but  I  do  not  remember  one  which  says  a  word  about 
our  ministers  sitting  in  Congregational  councils.  ...  As  to  the 
function  of  a  member  of  an  ordaining  council,  I  am  disgrace- 
fully ignorant.  I  have  been  nothing  but  an  Episcopalian  all  my 
life.  What  does  an  installer  do,  I  wonder.  And  what  would 
the  Congregationalists  say  when  they  saw  me  there? 

Would  it  not  be  better  that  I  should  come,  if  possible,  and 
utter  the  interest  which  I  really  deeply  feel  by  giving  out  a  hymn 
or  reading  a  lesson  from  Scripture  at  the  installation  service? 
And  then,  if  at  the  last  moment,  something  here  made  it  impos- 
sible for  me  to  come,  perhaps  another  man  might  do  my  impor- 
tant duty  in  my  place,  and  I  should  be  with  you  in  spirit  and  bid 
you  godspeed  all  the  same. 

These  are  my  questions.  In  view  of  them,  do  with  me  what 
you  think  best.  I  hope  I  have  written  intelligently,  but  since  I 
began  to  write,  several  of  these  boys  have  been  in  with  their  big 
questions  which  they  ask  with  as  much  apparent  expectation  of 
an  immediate  and  satisfactory  answer  as  if  they  were  inquiring 
the  way  to  Boston.  How  delightful  they  are !  We  are  all  re- 
joicing in  the  good  which  you  did  here  and  left  behind  you.  It 
was  a  distinct  refreshment  and  enlargement  of  all  that  had  been 
done  before.  We  will  do  our  best  to  keep  the  fire  from  going 
out  until  you  come  again. 

Meanwhile,  I  hope  I  have  not  written  too  vaguely  about  the 
council,  and  I  am 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

In  the  first  week  of  December  he  took  part  in  the  meetings 
of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  which  held  its  session  in  Boston. 
One  evening  was  assigned  to  him,  when  he  made  an  address 
occupying  nearly  an  hour  in  its  delivery.  His  speech  has 
been  published  in  the  proceedings  of  the  society,  where,  in 
its  intensity  and  tumultuousness,  it  still  excites  the  reader. 


?26  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

One  can  understand  his  rapidity  of  utterance  in  reading  it, 
for  the  excitement  may  be  felt  in  every  sentence.  He  threw 
all  considerations  of  form  to  the  winds,  apparently  anxious  to 
make  a  full  utterance  of  his  convictions.  He  travelled  over 
the  whole  field  of  theology,  coordinating  all  his  beliefs  with 
the  central  truth  that  every  man  is  the  child  of  God.  He 
was  careful  to  have  it  understood  in  his  opening  remarks 
that  he  had  not  chosen  his  subject ;  it  had  been  assigned  to 
him,  —  "The  Need  of  Enthusiasm  for  Humanity;"  but  if 
he  could  have  chosen,  there  was  no  subject  upon  which  he 
would  have  desired  more  to  speak.  He  recalled  the  origin 
of  the  expression  by  the  author  of  "Ecce  Homo."  After 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  took  up  the  phrase  and 
gave  it  his  own  interpretation.  It  had  originally  been  de- 
fined as  "the  love  of  humanity  grounded  in  the  conviction 
that  Christ  is  the  type  and  ideal  of  every  man."  This  he  had 
believed  and  preached;  but  according  to  his  own  definition, 
"the  enthusiasm  for  humanity  is  based  upon  the  conviction 
which  Christ  implanted,  that  every  man  is  the  child  of 
God."  He  seemed  to  go  beyond  himself  in  the  fiery  zeal  of 
his  earnestness  as  he  enforced  this  principle  in  all  its  impli- 
cations. The  address  cannot  be  analyzed  here  or  even  its 
synopsis  attempted.     But  one  passage  may  be  cited :  — 

Do  I  believe  that  Jonathan  Edwards,  when  he  has  told  me 
about  the  power  and  the  majesty  of  the  divine  will,  has  told  me 
the  whole  truth?  Do  I  believe,  on  the  other  hand,  that  Chan- 
ning,  when  he  has  told  me  of  the  purity  and  dignity  of  human 
nature,  has  told  me  the  whole  truth?  God,  revealed  to  me  by 
the  deepest  thoughts  of  those  who  have  lost  themselves  in  His 
existence;  man,  revealed  to  me  by  the  deep  and  tender  utterances 
of  those  who  have  lived  in  supreme  sympathy  with  him !  God 
and  man,  shall  they  stand  separate?  It  is  the  Christ,  the  God- 
man  that  I  see.  The  great  Christ-truth  of  the  Sonship  of  man 
to  God  takes  possession  of  these  things  which  have  been  frag- 
ments, as  we  have  heard  this  afternoon,  and  blends  them  in  their 
glorious  whole.  We  have  feared  that  man  should  be  a  traitor  to 
God.  There  is  great  danger  also,  — who  shall  measure  dangers 
where  they  are  all  so  tremendous  ?  —  there  is  vast  danger  lest 
man  be  a  traitor  to  man.  It  is  thirty  years,  I  suppose,  since 
Mrs.  Browning  sang,  in  one  of  her  characters :  — 


Rev.  Arthur  Brooks 


jet.  S3]        A  CHRISTMAS   SERMON  727 

This  age  shows,  to  my  thinking',  still  more  infidels  to  Adam 
Than  directly,  by  profession,  simple  infidels  to  God.1 

A  letter  to  the  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks,  which,  like  so  many 
of  his  letters,  seems  to  say  but  little  and  yet  reveals  so  much 
of  the  man  in  his  most  characteristic  mood,  closes  the  record 
for  the  year :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  26,  1889. 
Dear  Arthur,  —  When  we  came  home  from  Jim's,  where  we 
had  eaten  our  Christmas  dinner  last  night,  I  found  the  big  box 
in  my  front  entry,  and  I  slowly  extricated  from  it  the  delightful 
lamp,  with  all  the  world  upon  its  globe.  Indeed,  I  never  thought 
that  I  should  own  a  globe  like  that  of  yours  which  had  excited 
my  youthful  wonder.  And  here  it  is,  all  my  own,  and  with  a 
lovely  lamp  to  set  it  on,  and  I  can  hardly  wait  for  the  evening 
shades  to  prevail  that  it  may  take  up  its  wondrous  tale.  I  think 
of  giving  a  party  to  let  people  see  it,  and  at  the  same  time  im- 
prove their  geography  by  study  of  its  globe.  I  cannot  do  that 
for  a  week  or  two,  but  meanwhile,  Bishop  Clark  is  coming  to 
spend  two  or  three  days,  and  preach  for  me  on  Sunday.  He  in- 
vited himself,  saying  that  he  would  like  to  preach  in  Trinity 
Church  once  more.  He  shall  see  the  lamp,  and  I  am  sure  it  will 
brighten  him  up.  ...  I  am  hoping  to  look  in  upon  you  on  the  16th 
of  January,  when  I  am  coming  on  to  help  install  Lyman  Abbott 
at  the  Plymouth  Church.  Then  you  shall  tell  me  all  about  Hart- 
ford and  the  good  things  which  you  did  there,  and  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  the  Evangelical  Alliance  and  Greer's  speech.  And 
we  will  mingle  our  tears  in  memory  of  Browning  and  Lightfoot, 
and  altogether  it  seems  as  if  it  would  be  very  pleasant.  Until 
that  time  you  must  think  of  me  as  sitting  gratefully  in  the  warm 
light  of  the  new  lamp,  very  calm  and  very  happy. 

We  trace  the  working  of  his  mind  in  some  brief  hints  of 
his  Christmas  sermon  on  the  text,  "Hast  thou  not  known, 
hast  thou  not  heard,  that  the  everlasting  God,  the  Lord,  the 
Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither  is 
weary?     There  is  no  searching  of  His  understanding." 

The  greatest  is  the  kindest  and  the  dearest.      Tendency  to  run 

1  Cf.  for  the  Address  in  full,  National  Needs  and  Remedies.  The  Discussions 
of  the  General  Christian  Conference  held  in  Boston,  Mass.,  December  4,  5,  and  6, 
1889,  under  the  Auspices  and  Direction  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  for  the  United 
States.    New  York :  The  Baker  and  Taylor  Co.     1890. 


728  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1889 

to  the  little  in  our  religion.  The  great  landscapes,  the  great 
thoughts  suitable  for  Christmas  time.  Their  belonging  to  all 
men  makes  them  more  and  not  less  truly  ours.  The  dear  earth 
and  dear  sky.  Dear  humanity.  It  is  not  relative  size,  but  true 
relationship  that  makes  the  grip.  Ask  yourself  if  your  largest 
were  not  most  sympathetic. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

1890 

SPEECH  AT  THE  CHAMBER  OF  COMMERCE.  LENTEN  AD- 
DRESSES IN  TRINITY  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK.  CHANGE  rN 
MANNER  OF  PREACHING.  CORRESPONDENCE.  ADDRESS 
AT  THE  CHURCH  CONGRESS.      THANKSGIVING   SERMON 

"Regret  at  leaving  any  past;  but  quick!  seize  what  is 
precious  before  it  is  too  late;  then  go!  Seize  Wisdom, 
Faith,  Hope;  then  forward!"  These  were  the  words  ad- 
dressed to  the  congregation  at  Trinity  Church  after  the  bell 
had  struck  which  announced  the  death  of  the  old  year  and 
the  coming  of  the  new. 

With  the  coming  of  1890  we  enter  upon  the  last  year  in 
the  parish  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks.  All  his  years  seem 
great,  yet  this  stands  out  with  a  distinct  character  of  its 
own,  in  some  respects  the  greatest  of  them  all.  It  was  not 
that  the  incidents  of  his  life  were  more  striking  than  in  pre- 
vious years,  but  the  life  itself  seems  greater  and  more  im- 
pressive. He  had  now  reached  the  age  of  fifty-four,  and 
had  kept  the  thirtieth  anniversary  of  his  ordination.  Twenty- 
one  years  had  gone  by  since  he  became  the  rector  of  Trinity 
Church.  There  was  no  outward  sign  of  weariness  or  exhaus- 
tion as  he  entered  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  his  life,  for  on  the 
contrary  he  summoned  the  energies  of  his  being  to  make 
more  effective  the  utterance  God  had  given  him.  He  had 
attained  the  simplicity  for  which  he  had  aspired  and  strug- 
gled. Intellectual  difficulties  about  religion  or  the  world 
process  had  long  ceased  to  embarrass  him.  His  philosophy 
of  life  was  the  same  with  which  he  started,  only  it  had  now 
become  part  of  his  being,  identified  with  his  inmost  person- 
ality.    He  had  this  one  theme,  the  sacreduess,  the  beauty, 


730  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

the  glory  of  life,  and  that  because  all  men  were  the  children 
of  God,  and  Christ  was  the  eternal  Son.  This  one  theme 
ramified  into  a  thousand  variations,  always  new,  always  dif- 
ferent, and  rich  beyond  measure,  as  the  theme  in  nature  is 
simple,  but  inexhaustible  in  the  beauty  and  variety  of  its 
manifestations.  Whenever  he  spoke,  the  subject  was  to  him 
as  if  it  were  new,  and  this  sense  of  freshness  and  novelty 
was  contagious.  Wherever  he  went,  whatever  might  be  the 
occasion,  he  lifted  his  banner  whereon  was  written  the  sacred - 
ness  and  the  possibilities  of  life.  As  some  were  blind  to  the 
beauty  of  outward  nature,  others,  the  greater  part  of  men, 
were  blind  to  the  wealth  and  the  splendor  of  the  spiritual 
world,  and  yet  ready  to  recognize  it  when  pointed  out  to 
them.  This  was  his  work,  to  recall  men  to  their  spiritual 
environment,  to  remind  them  of  their  spiritual  heritage,  and 
show  them  its  content.  He  quotes  in  his  note-book  the 
words  of  Schleiermacher  as  though  he  were  applying  them  to 
himself:  "Now  this  is  just  my  vocation,  — to  represent  more 
clearly  that  which  dwells  in  all  true  human  beings,  and  to 
bring  it  home  to  their  consciousness."  But  what  seemed  to 
rise  above  every  other  characteristic  of  his  preaching  or  his 
conversation  was  the  inextinguishable  and  boundless  hope. 
He  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  daunted  by  any  circum- 
stances of  life  in  proclaiming  the  salvation  by  hope.  Amidst 
countless  voices  of  despair,  or  the  wailings  of  misery,  or  the 
manifestations  of  indifference  which  surged  about  him  like  a 
chorus  striving  to  silence  or  drown  his  utterance,  his  voice 
rose  above  them  all,  proclaiming  hope  and  the  blessedness 
of  life  in  itself,  the  sacredness  of  humanity  and  all  its  legiti- 
mate interests.  Nor  was  it  that  he  did  not  see  the  evil,  the 
misery,  and  the  sin.  More  than  most  men  was  he  called 
into  contact  with  suffering  and  with  sorrow  in  their  pathetic 
and  tragic  forms.  Constant  ministrations  to  the  sick  and 
dying,  to  those  in  deepest  mourning,  filled  up  his  days.  His 
gift  of  consolation  was  so  marvellous  that  it  must  needs  be  in 
perpetual  exercise.  The  more  hideous  forms  of  evil,  the 
evidences  of  vice,  lives  from  which  almost  all  the  light  had 
gone  out,  —  these  things  were  familiar.    Then  there  were  his 


jet.  54]      PERSONAL   IMPRESSIONS  731 

own  personal  sorrows  and  disappointments,  the  growing  lone- 
liness, "If  any  man  knows  what  loneliness  is,  I  do,"  he  once 
said  of  himself;  possible  misgivings  about  his  health,  of 
which  he  spoke  to  no  one;  the  feeling,  an  awful  one  to  him, 
that  youth  was  departing  and  with  it  might  be  lost  the  fresh- 
ness of  his  outlook  on  life ;  the  possibility  that  he  might  not 
live  to  see  what  life  would  soon  reveal,  —  all  these  combined 
to  raise  their  varying  strains  of  hopelessness  and  sadness, 
and  still  the  voice  that  was  in  him  soared  above  the  discord- 
ance and  confusion,  proclaiming  hope,  and  joy,  and  always 
cheerfulness  as  the  word  of  God  to  man.  He  had  to  fight 
harder,  it  may  be,  to  retain  his  faith,  but  for  this  very  rea- 
son his  faith  grew  stronger  and  more  secure.  However  it 
may  be  explained,  so  it  was  that  he  gained  an  ever  deepen- 
ing conviction  that  the  world,  whether  of  nature  or  of  human- 
ity, had  been  redeemed  and  glorified  in  Christ.  In  the  light 
of  this  redemption  the  world  never  looked  fairer  or  richer,  or 
life  more  attractive  than  now,  till  it  almost  pained  him  to 
address  young  men  with  the  prospect  before  them  of  a  vision 
which  he  could  not  live  to  see.  He  resented  every  attitude 
or  criticism  which  implied  that  there  might  be  anything  fun- 
damentally wrong  where  men  were  using  their  God-given  fac- 
ulties to  open  up  the  meaning  of  man's  environment. 

Let  us  take  one  more  and  a  final  glance  at  the  equipment 
which  made  possible  this  outlook  on  the  world,  —  so  rich,  so 
comprehensive,  so  generous  and  rare.  He  was  not  a  philos- 
opher in  the  conventional  meaning  of  the  term,  but  in  its 
larger  and  truer  sense  he  had  gained  what  philosophy  could 
give.  In  the  working  of  his  mind  we  may  trace  the  results 
of  the  long  history  of  philosophy,  from  the  time  of  Plato  to 
his  own  age.  There  was  nothing  in  the  line  of  philosophical 
development  beyond  the  range  of  his  endeavor  to  comprehend 
and  to  adjust  in  a  large  scheme  of  the  world's  order.  He 
had  this  peculiarity,  when  compared  with  others  engaged  in 
the  task  of  explaining  the  world,  that  what  they  were  think- 
ing he  was  not  only  thinking,  but  feeling  and  living.  He  was 
not  a  professed  student  of  philosophy  or  the  systems  of  great 
thinkers,  yet  he  inquired  of  them,  and  he  seemed  to  know,  as 


73 2  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

if  he  had  made  their  search  the  object  of  his  life,  what  it  was 
that  they  stood  for  in  relation  to  the  world  problem.  He 
was  an  idealist  with  Plato.  With  Kant  he  lived  in  the 
human  consciousness.  He  felt  the  force  of  the  transcen- 
dental philosophy.  There  are  hints  of  the  Berkeleian  princi- 
ple, as  well  as  reminders  of  Hegel's  ruling  idea.  Yet  on  the 
other  hand  he  retained  his  youthful  devotion  to  Bacon  in  the 
idealization  of  the  world  of  outward  nature,  while  in  Lotze  he 
found  a  healthful  check  for  the  extravagance  or  one-sidedness 
of  a  transcendental  idealism,  —  the  purely  intellectual  esti- 
mate of  things.  He  still  retained  the  vision  of  his  youth, 
when  he  saw  the  world  transfigured  as  in  ancient  Neoplatonic 
reverie ;  but  he  overcame  its  error  and  weakness  by  giving 
the  central  place  in  thought  and  life  to  the  Incarnation,  thus 
gaining  unity  and  simplicity,  the  power  of  the  personal 
Christ  as  the  bond  of  union  with  God.  He  held  the  truth  of 
the  immanence  of  God,  in  nature  and  in  humanity,  uniting 
with  it  the  personality  of  God  in  His  distinctness  from  both, 
whose  personal  will  was  the  final  explanation  of  all  the  issues 
of  life  and  thought. 

In  the  various  addresses  he  now  made,  or  in  the  sermons 
preached,  we  may  see  some  of  these  points  illustrated.  Thus, 
in  January,  he  spoke  to  the  merchants  of  Boston  at  a  ban- 
quet of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  when  his  speech  was  the 
amplification  of  the  words  of  Bacon:  "Not  for  gold,  or  sil- 
ver, or  precious  stones  was  commerce  instituted,  not  for  silks 
or  spices,  nor  for  any  other  of  those  crude  ends  at  which  thou 
aimest,  but  first  and  only  for  the  child  of  God,  that  is  to  say, 
for  light." 1  He  began  his  address  by  remarking  that  it  was 
a  privilege  "to  sit  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude  of  merchants 
and  see  the  modern  look  in  their  faces  and  catch  the  modern 
tone  in  their  voices ;  it  is  the  merchant  to-day  who  holds  the 
reins  and  bears  the  responsibility  of  life."  This  was  the 
report  of  his  speech :  — 

Let  it  be  our  place  to  rejoice  that  the  world  had  not  fulfilled 
itself,  —  that  man,  so  marvellously  mysterious  as  he  was,  evidently 
was  beginning  to  realize  that  he  had  not  begun  to  display  the  power 

1  Cf.  Sermons,  vol.  i.  p.  226. 


jet.  54]  NATURE  AND  MAN  733 

that  was  in  him.  And  let  us  take  up  boldly  the  responsibility 
which  belonged  to  his  enlarged  outlook.  The  one  thing  that 
grew  upon  him  as  he  grew  older,  he  said,  was  the  mysteriousness 
of  human  life  and  the  absolutely  unfulfilled  powers  that  were  in 
humankind.  His  one  great  assurance  was  that  the  world  was 
bound  to  press  onward  and  find  an  escape  from  the  things  that 
terrified  it,  not  by  retreat,  but  by  a  perpetual  progress  into  the 
large  calm  that  lay  beyond.  The  very  things  that  made  men 
hesitate,  fear,  and  dread  were  the  things  in  which  we  most  re- 
joiced, and  which  we  could  not  possibly  surrender.  The  things 
that  made  it  beautiful  to  live  to-day  were  the  enlarged  opportu- 
nity, the  enlarged  intelligence,  the  enlarged  communication,  the 
magnificent  freedom,  and  the  increased  conveniences  of  human 
life.  These  were  the  things  that  made  the  enormous  and  fierce 
competition  of  mankind;  but  these  also  were  the  things  which 
mankind,  having  once  tasted,  never  could  surrender,  and  so  it 
must  be  through  progress  and  not  retreat,  through  greater  en- 
largement of  human  life  and  not  restraint  in  its  regions  of 
thought  or  action,  that  the  future  of  mankind  was  going  to  realize 
itself.  Let  us  look  forward  and  believe  in  men.  Let  us  believe 
that  every  power  of  man  put  forth  to  its  best  activity  must  ulti- 
mately lead  to  the  large  consummation  of  the  complete  life  to  all 
the  sons  of  men.  To  be  in  the  thick  of  that  seemed  to  be  the 
glory  of  a  single  human  life.  It  was  for  us  to  rejoice  in  the 
richness  of  the  life  in  which  we  were  placed,  —  the  richness  of 
thought  and  the  richness  of  action,  —  to  believe  in  it  with  all  our 
hearts,  to  hesitate  at  nothing.  But  it  seemed  to  him  the  very 
newness  of  our  life,  the  very  newness  of  business  life  and  of  schol- 
arly life,  compelled  a  complete  loyalty  to  those  great  fundamental 
things  which  never  changed.  The  more  change  came,  the  more 
absolutely  we  were  bound  to  hold  fast  to  those  things  which  must 
be  the  strength  of  every  changing  civilization,  every  activity  of 
men's  thought  or  nature.  Those  things  were  integrity  and  public 
spirit.  Let  those  be  alive  among  our  thinkers  and  merchants, 
and  the  thinkers  and  merchants  needed  them  equally,  and  then 
we  might  welcome  whatever  great  changes  had  to  come  in  the 
future.  It  was  because  those  were  being  preserved,  as  he  be- 
lieved, most  earnestly,  most  religiously,  that  we  were  able  to 
look  forward  into  the  future  without  a  fear.  There  never  was  a 
time  for  men  to  live  like  this  time. 

His  imagination  was  working  in  the  same  line  as  lie  went 
in  January  to  the  Leather  Trade  dinner,  noting  down  this 
point  to  be  made  in  his  speech :  — 


734  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1890 

Each  business  touches  the  imagination.  It  stands  between 
nature  and  man  and  turns  the  wonderful  world  to  human  use. 
Behind  the  carpenter,  the  waving  forest.  Behind  the  factory  the 
sunny  cotton  field,  and  before  both  man,  human  life,  made 
stronger,  happier  by  the  transformation  which  they  work.  These 
the  two  great  things  of  the  earth,  nature  and  man. 

Behind  your  business  is  the  world  of  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills, 
the  lowing  herd  in  the  pasture,  the  rush  of  buffaloes  across  the 
prairie,  the  bleating  of  flocks  in  the  fold,  —  these  bright  and  airy 
pictures ;  and  in  front  of  it  man,  with  this  tough  element  in  his 
civilization  which  you  bring  there  for  his  comfort. 

He  had  taken  offence  at  something  which  he  had  heard 
uttered  in  disparagement  of  nature  and  of  its  study,  as  if  the 
love  of  nature  stood  in  the  way  of  the  spiritual  life.  His 
answer  to  it  was  a  sermon  at  Trinity  Church  to  "a  great 
gathering,"  when  his  text  was  the  words  of  St.  Paul:  "For 
the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creation  waiteth  for  the  reveal- 
ing of  the  sons  of  God,"  and  his  subject  the  relations  of 
nature  and  humanity,  —  the  waiting  attitude  of  nature  for 
the  perfect  man :  — 

How  full  were  Paul's  words  of  the  spirit  of  our  time!  For 
what  was  Science  doing  to-day  ?  Was  she  not  building  up  and 
completing  man  so  that  he  might  be  more  and  more  able  to  ask 
of  Nature  what  she  means,  and  call  forth  from  her  the  great 
forces  of  the  world? 

The  thing  men  were  looking  for  was  not  that  Nature  should 
become  more  and  more  rich  or  full,  but  that  man  should  become 
more  worthy  of  the  answers  and  the  revelations  which  Nature 
could  make  to  him  of  herself. 

This  was  also  true  of  the  poetry  of  the  time,  for  it  was  a  char- 
acteristic of  the  verse  of  the  nineteenth  century  that  it  felt  a  soul 
in  Nature. 

And  it  was  the  pain  at  the  great  soul  of  Nature  that  she  could 
not  do  for  man  what  she  could  do  were  he  worthy  as  a  son  of  God. 
The  world  was  waiting  to-day  to  do  the  things  for  man  that  it 
could  not  do  so  long  as  he  had  not  in  himself  the  son  of  God. 

Well,  man  had  declared  himself  the  son  of  God,  and  that  was 
the  lesson  of  those  wondrous  pages,  yet  men  stumbled  over  them 
with  little  conception  of  what  they  meant,  and  spoke  of  miracles 
as  incredible  simply  because  they  never  happened  before  or  since. 

Why,  the  Son  of  God  never  manifested  Himself  before  or  since, 


jet.  54]  THE  MIRACLE  735 

and  that  was  the  true  philosophy  of  miracles.  It  might  be  that 
Christ  did  things  which  had  in  them  only  the  ordinary  forces  of 
nature,  but  He  gave  liberty  to  the  soul  of  the  world,  and  gave  it 
power  to  manifest  itself. 

The  question  of  the  miracle,  its  actuality  or  its  possibility, 
was  at  this  time  one  of  the  disturbing  issues  in  the  churches. 
Phillips  Brooks  encountered  it  in  his  preaching,  receiving 
sharp  protests  from  those  who  dissented,  urging  him  to  aban- 
don what  was  unprofitable  and  men  no  longer  believed.  His 
answer  to  such  protests  was  the  mild  reply  that  the  pulpit 
should  be  free,  or  that  if  all  lived  up  to  the  truth  they  did 
believe,  it  would  be  well.  There  are  many  of  his  letters, 
many  reports  of  conversations  with  him,  turning  on  this 
point.  Young  men  came  to  him  with  the  difficulty.  It  was 
keeping  them  out  of  the  church,  or  preventing  their  whole- 
souled  allegiance  to  Christ.  He  did  what  he  could  to  help 
them  by  argument  or  by  statement  of  the  question  in  a  new 
light.  He  was  troubled  by  an  attitude  in  which  he  did  not 
sympathize,  and  he  seems  to  have  kept  his  deeper  conviction 
in  the  background  as  something  they  could  not  share.  But 
in  a  sermon  preached  in  1889  —  one  of  the  most  characteris- 
tic sermons  he  ever  wrote  —  he  gave  full  scope  to  his  devo- 
tion. The  text  indicates  his  attitude  toward  this  and  every 
other  conviction  he  held,  "Rejoicing  in  the  truth."  It  was 
one  thing  to  believe,  and  another  to  rejoice.  He  enumerates 
the  points  of  belief  wherein  he  rejoiced,  and  in  doing  so 
comes  to  the  miracle :  — 

There  is  the  man  who  rejoiceth  in  the  truth  of  the  miracle, 
and  for  whom  the  earth  he  treads  is  always  less  hard,  more  soft 
and  buoyant,  because  it  has  once  trembled  under  the  feet  of 
Christ.  He  is  glad  through  all  his  soul  that  the  hard-seeming 
order  of  things  has  once  and  again  felt  the  immediate  compulsion 
of  the  Master  soul.  Critical  as  he  may  be  in  his  judgment  of 
evidence,  he  does  not  grudge  assent  because  of  any  previous  con- 
viction of  impossibility.  He  is  glad  to  believe.  Belief  to  him 
is  better  than  unbelief.  Every  sunrise  is  more  splendid,  every 
sunset  is  more  tender,  every  landscape  has  new  meanings;  the 
great  sea  is  mightier  and  more  gracious ;  life  has  more  fascina- 
tion, death  has  more  mystery,  because  Jesus  Christ  spoke  to  the 


736  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

waters,  and  shone  in  the  transfiguration  glory,  and  called  Laz- 
arus out  of  the  tomh,  and  stood  himself  in  the  bright  morning 
outside  his  own  tomb  door  at  Jerusalem. 

Mr.  Brooks  seems  at  this  time  to  have  been  making  more 
occasional  addresses  than  usual.  Thus,  in  addition  to  those 
already  mentioned  in  this  first  month  of  the  year,  he  went 
to  a  Browning  service  and  spoke ;  twice  to  the  Harvard  Ves- 
pers; to  the  Grand  Opera  House,  where  he  preached  on  a 
Sunday  evening ;  to  Cambridge  to  talk  on  Foreign  Missions 
to  theological  students,  and  to  a  meeting  of  the  Yale  alumni. 
He  went  out  to  Cambridge  again  as  Lent  approached,  Feb- 
ruary 17,  to  meet  the  alumni  of  the  Episcopal  Theological 
School,  who  were  holding  a  "retreat"  in  preparation  for 
their  work.  He  did  not  like  the  word,  but  he  went  deter- 
mined to  do  all  that  was  asked  of  him,  giving  three  "medi- 
tations "  on  the  words  of  the  great  Intercessory  Prayer,  and 
rising  early  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day  of  the  meeting 
in  order  to  administer  the  Holy  Communion.  In  his  parish 
during  Lent  he  was  making  three  addresses  every  week.  On 
Wednesdays  his  subject  was  the  Joys  of  Christ :  His  incar- 
nation, —  obedience,  consciousness  of  brotherhood,  transfigu- 
ration, resurrection.  On  Fridays,  the  Sufferings  of  Christ: 
His  incarnation,  —  persecution,  disappointments  in  friends, 
the  mystery  of  Gethsemane,  the  crucifixion.  With  his  Bible 
class  he  took  up  the  church  as  it  was  in  the  mind  of  Christ, 
following  its  presentation  in  history,  ancient  and  mediaeval, 
and  closing  with  the  modern  church  and  the  church  of  the 
future.  He  was  preaching  on  Sundays  in  Lent  at  Trinity, 
and  his  record  shows  him  going  to  other  places,  —  to  the  Old 
South  Church,  to  Winchester,  to  Springfield,  to  Boxbury, 
to  Newton  Lower  Falls,  to  Providence.  As  if  this  were  not 
enough,  he  gave  an  address  lasting  for  an  hour  every  Mon- 
day noon  at  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  Boston.  These  services 
were  intended  for  business  men,  but  long  before  twelve 
o'clock  the  church  was  filled  with  women,  with  the  clergy  of 
Boston  and  of  the  surrounding  towns,  as  well  as  students  of 
theology,  so  that  business  men  were  crowded  out.  A  letter 
of  remonstrance  was  sent  to  Mr.  Brooks :  — 


jet.  54]       NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  737 

Boston,  March  13, 1890. 
Dear  Sir,  —  Will  you  inform  me  whether  the  Monday  noon 
services  at  St.  Paul's  during  Lent  are  intended  to  be  "Business 
Men's  Meetings,"  or  not?  There  is  a  general  impression  on  the 
street  that  they  are,  and  the  lectures  would  seem  to  strengthen 
the  impression.  Yet  the  preponderance  of  women  in  the  audi- 
ence would  seem  to  belie  the  impression.  If  the  meetings  are 
intended  particularly  for  business  men,  would  it  be  unjust  to 
others  to  reserve  the  central  aisle  for  business  men  only  until 
12.05,  for  instance?  That  such  a  step  would  be  approved  I  am 
sure  from  conversations  both  at  the  church  and  on  the  street. 
Business  men  feel,  as  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  that  if  it  is 
their  service,  it  is  keeping  them  out  to  have  nine  tenths  of  those 
in  the  pews  women,  who  can  get  there  before  twelve,  and  the 
majority  of  whom  can,  and  probably  do,  hear  you  on  Sunday. 
The  business  men  from  the  suburbs  or  distant  cities  cannot  hear 
you  on  Sundays,  we  will  assume,  but  can  on  Monday  noon.  I 
know  of  many  men  who  would  attend  the  noonday  service  on  the 
Mondays  in  Lent  but  for  the  fact  that  they  cannot  get  to  St. 
Paul's  before  twelve,  and  at  that  hour  the  seats  are  taken  and 
the  aisles  crowded,  so  they  remain  away.  If  the  service  is  pri- 
marily for  business  men,  they  are  at  a  great  disadvantage  at  pre- 
sent ;  if  not  primarily  for  them,  of  course  they  must  take  their 
chances  with  the  rest.  A  line  will  be  appreciated  by  many 
friends,  etc. 

A  similar  experience  awaited  him  at  Trinity  Church,  New 
York,  where  he  went  during  Lent  to  give  a  course  of  ad- 
dresses to  business  men  on  six  consecutive  days.  The  invi- 
tation came  from  the  rector  of  Trinity,  the  Kev.  Morgan 
Dix,  for  whose  courtesy  and  ability  as  the  honored  president 
of  the  House  of  Deputies  in  the  General  Convention  Mr. 
Brooks  had  often  expressed  the  highest  admiration.  The 
event  was  one  of  peculiar  interest  and  significance  in  the  life 
of  Phillips  Brooks.  He  had  been  in  the  habit  for  many 
years  of  preaching  at  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation  on  the 
Sunday  after  Easter,  and  occasionally  at  Grace  Church.  But 
at  Trinity  he  spoke  to  representative  New  York  in  the  larg- 
est possible  way.  If  it  was  an  event  for  Phillips  Brooks,  it 
seems  to  have  been  still  more  an  event  for  the  city  of  New 
York.  No  missioner  ever  achieved  a  greater  conquest.  And 
what  was  most  remarkable,  no  effort  whatever  was  made  to 

vol.  n 


738  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

call  attention  to  the  services,  no  announcement  in  other 
churches,  no  advertisement  in  the  newspapers.  A  simple 
placard  was  suspended  to  the  iron  fence  on  the  day  when 
the  services  were  to  begin,  announcing  that  Rev.  Phillips 
Brooks,  of  Boston,  would  speak  to  men  at  twelve  o'clock 
each  day  of  the  week.  The  difficulty  which  had  been  experi- 
enced in  Boston  was  not  to  be  repeated.  It  had  been  pro- 
posed at  first  that  one  half  of  the  church,  divided  by  the 
middle  aisle,  should  be  assigned  to  women,  and  the  other 
half  to  men.  Mr.  Brooks  decided  that  the  services  should 
be  confined  to  men.  The  followingereports  of  these  services 
are  taken  from  the  New  York  "  Sun :  "  — 

At  11.30  this  morning  [Monday,  February  24],  busy  men 
began  to  file  into  Trinity  Church.  The  great  interior  was  dim 
by  reason  of  the  heavy  rain  outside,  and  the  business  men  who 
entered  carried  umbrellas  dripping  wet,  or  shook  the  water 
from  their  gossamers  as  they  stood  in  the  entry.  The  seats  were 
rapidly  filled,  and  before  twelve  o'clock  the  benches  in  the  aisles 
were  occupied,  so  that,  after  that  hour,  the  men  who  entered 
were  obliged  to  stand  in  the  broad  space  far  in  the  rear 

Before  the  lecture  was  completed  a  throng  of  men,  whose  busi- 
ness made  it  inconvenient  for  them  to  come  at  the  beginning  of 
the  address,  had  pressed  down  the  aisle  at  the  end  of  which  the 
pulpit  stands,  so  that,  when  the  lecture  was  half  completed, 
there  stood  beneath  the  pulpit  a  great  throng  of  men  looking  with 
the  earnestness  and  steadiness  which  true  eloquence  begets  up  at 
the  great  preacher  who  was  uttering  simple  words  of  Christian 
wisdom. 

It  was  an  impressive  sight  to  see  this  vast  church  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  a  body  of  New  York  men,  representatives  of  the 
professions,  trades,  commerce,  and  the  financial  energies  of  Wall 
Street.  For  here  were  men  who  directed  affairs  involving  mil- 
lions, others  who  represent  vast  litigations,  seated  side  by  side 
with  clerks  and  older  men,  who  were  employed,  many  of  them, 
in  subordinate  capacities  by  the  men  beside  whom  they  sat. 

The  chimes  in  Trinity  steeple,  whose  echoes  were  heard  with 
dim  resonance  in  the  church,  had  scarcely  ceased  ringing  for  the 
hour  of  twelve  when  the  door  of  the  vestry  room  opened  and  the 
choir  boys,  with  Dr.  Brooks  and  Dr.  Morgan  Dix  following,  en- 
tered the  chancel.  Dr.  Brooks  wore  the  conventional  surplice, 
while  Dr.  Dix  wore  no  vestments.      Dr.  Brooks  at  once  mounted 


mt.  54]       NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  739 

the  pulpit,  where,  as  he  stood,  his  giant  stature  was  revealed  to 
the  great  throng  before  him.  In  a  low  voice,  which  could  be 
heard  scarcely  twenty  feet  away,  he  read  the  opening  hymn, 
beginning,  "A  charge  to  keep  I  have."  The  great  congregation 
rose,  and  it  was  a  sight  to  see  these  busy  men  as  they  stood  there 
singing  the  hymn  to  the  familiar  tune  written  for  it.  There 
were  men  who,  a  few  moments  before,  had  been  plunged  into  the 
intricacies  of  trade  and  finance,  now  singing  with  devout  manner 
the  hymn,  and  the  volume  of  music  which  arose  from  this  great 
throng  must  have  sounded  sweetly  to  the  ear  of  Dr.  Brooks,  for 
he  paused  in  his  own  singing  that  he  might  listen  to  the  glorious 
music  made  by  this  congregation  of  male  voices. 

After  a  Collect  and  the  repetition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which 
must  have  been  pronounced  by  every  member  in  the  church,  so 
great  and  distinct  was  the  volume  of  sound,  Dr.  Brooks  began 
the  address.  He  started  without  a  preliminary  utterance  right 
into  the  heart  of  the  sermon,  and  his  very  first  sentence  was  ut- 
tered with  that  mighty  impetuosity  of  thought  and  speech  which 
distinguishes  him  among  American  clergymen,  which  makes  it  im- 
possible for  the  swiftest  stenographer  completely  to  report  him, 
and  which  is  a  Niagara  of  thoughts  and  words  maintained  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  discourse.  His  voice  is  peculiarly 
sympathetic  and  sweet,  even  in  his  most  impassioned  utterances. 
His  tones  are  mellow  and  a  delight  to  the  ear,  and  when  he 
utters  a  sentence  with  the  utmost  speed  of  thought,  and  of  great 
length,  but  with  perfect  symmetry  and  lucidity,  his  tones  are  so 
melodious  that  they  seem  almost  like  the  intoning  of  his  discourse. 

The  first  few  sentences,  however,  were  spoken  in  so  low  a  tone 
that  they  were  inaudible,  and  a  silent  gesture  of  protest  went  up 
all  over  the  church,  manifested  by  the  holding  of  one  hand  to  the 
ear  that  his  words  might  be  the  better  distinguished.  He  seemed 
to  take  the  hint,  and  to  have  tested  the  acoustics  of  the  church, 
for  a  moment  later  his  voice  was  distinct  and  clear,  and  heard 
in  the  remotest  corners.    .    .    . 

As  he  finished  his  address  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked 
over  the  pulpit  at  that  vast  throng  crowding  the  aisle  beneath 
with  upturned  faces,  listening  for  every  word  which  came  from 
his  lips.  When  he  turned  to  descend  from  the  pulpit,  the  throng 
still  stood  there  as  though  controlled  by  his  presence  and  power, 
even  after  he  had  departed  from  the  place  where  he  had  uttered 
these  words  of  wisdom  in  a  manner  which  seemed  almost  inspired. 

On  the  second  day,  Tuesday,  the  hymn  was  "Rock  of 
Ages,  cleft  for  me,"  followed  by  the  saying  of  the  Lord's 


740  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

Prayer.      These   sentences  indicate  that  the  interest  was 
growing :  — 

The  heavy  mist  which  palled  the  city  this  morning  concealed 
the  steeple  which  surmounts  Trinity  Church,  and  almost  hid  the 
clock  at  noon  to-day,  while  the  chimes  rang  out  the  mid-day  hour 
in  tones  which  seemed  to  he  almost  muffled.  Yet  a  steady  throng 
of  men  had  been  filing  into  the  church  for  half  an  hour,  ready  to 
meet  with  the  discomfort  occasioned  by  the  packing  together  of 
a  throng  whose  clothing  was  damp,  and  every  one  of  whom  car- 
ried a  dripping  umbrella.  When  the  noon  hour  was  reached,  the 
great  interior  contained  as  dense  a  throng  as  were  ever  within 
its  walls.  After  all  the  seats  were  taken,  the  crowd  pressed 
down  the  aisles,  and  stood  in  a  great  mass  of  men  in  the  passage- 
way at  the  rear  of  the  church.  So  dense  was  the  throng  that, 
after  the  exercises  which  called  it  together  began,  it  was  impos- 
sible for  any  to  get  in,  and  almost  impossible  for  any  to  get  out. 

Yesterday  the  church  was  comfortably  filled,  but  the  throng  that 
gathered  then  was  moderate  in  comparison  with  that  which  as- 
sembled to-day.  In  the  aisles,  too,  there  stood  with  perfect 
patience  for  nearly  an  hour  men  who  command  millions  of  money, 
and  who  direct  affairs  of  colossal  importance.  Not  one  of  these 
turned  and  left  the  building,  although  the  discomfort  was  great 
by  reason  of  the  close  packing  of  the  throng  and  the  dampness 
which  was  encountered  on  every  side. 

Very  many  in  the  audience  had  never  heard  him  before,  and  it 
was  evident  that  they  were,  at  the  beginning,  astonished  at  the 
rapidity  of  his  utterance.  He  spoke  with  a  voice  better  modu- 
lated to  the  acoustics  of  the  church  than  was  the  case  yesterday, 
and  after  the  first  sentence  or  two,  his  words  were  heard  with 
perfect  distinctness  all  over  the  church.  But,  though  he  had 
increased  the  volume  of  his  tone,  and  the  distinctness  of  his  utter- 
ance was  evidently  in  his  mind,  yet  the  exquisite  modulation  of 
his  tone  was  even  more  apparent  than  yesterday. 

The  service  closed  with  the  hymn,  "Arise,  my  soul,  and  with 
the  sun."  The  impressiveness  of  this  hymn  as  sung  by  the  great 
body  of  men  was  very  great,  and  not  a  few  of  those  there  as- 
sembled, who  heard  the  volume  of  song,  were  so  impressed  that 
tears  rolled  down  their  cheeks. 

As  the  days  went  on  the  interest  continued  to  grow  deeper, 
as  the  following  comment  shows :  — 

The  services  suggest  none  of  the  familiar  scenes  of  the  revival 
meeting.     There  is  no  excitement,  but  there  is  a  majestic  revela- 


at.  54]       NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  741 

tion  of  the  power  of  eloquence  used  to  illustrate  the  sublimest  of 
all  truths  upon  a  vast  body  of  business  men. 

Each  succeeding  day  has  witnessed  an  increase  in  the  attend- 
ance, till  the  chancel  has  been  occupied,  the  preacher  has  found 
difficulty  in  wending  his  way  to  the  pulpit,  and  hundreds  have 
been  turned  away  unable  to  gain  admittance.  There  have  been 
clergymen  present,  a  large  number  of  young  men,  lawyers  also, 
and  the  great  throng  of  business  men,  till  Wall  Street  and  its 
vicinity  seemed  deserted.  The  women  have  pleaded  to  be  ad- 
mitted but  have  been  refused,  for  if  women  were  admitted  they 
would  fill  the  church  to  the  exclusion  of  those  for  whom  the  ser- 
vice is  intended. 

Whatever  the  reason,  the  throng  that  has  been  drawn  from 
the  offices  and  stores  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city  to  Trinity 
Church  at  the  noontide  has  been  something  unprecedented.  The 
wonderful  success  of  the  Lenten  season  at  Trinity  Church  is  an 
event  about  which  merchants,  bankers,  and  lawyers  are  talking. 

It  is  important  to  preserve  the  contemporaneous  comment, 
the  description  of  the  effect  produced,  the  efforts  to  explain 
it.  The  above  comment  is  taken  from  the  "Sun."  The 
following  is  from  the  "World:  "  — 

There  is  a  bewitchery  of  eloquence  which  has  descended  upon 
lower  New  York.  A  Demosthenes  has  appeared  in  the  modern 
metropolitan  market-place.  There  are  people  who  argue  that  a 
"revival"  is  in  progress  in  "Old  Trinity,"  but  it  would  be  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  substantiate  this  claim.  Certainly  Dr.  Brooks 
has  not  as  yet  called  for  volunteers  to  the  "anxious  seats,"  nor 
even  requested  an  uplifting  of  hands  among  those  who  desire  to 
be  saved.  On  the  contrary,  he  studiously  avoids  all  incentives 
to  religious  excitement.  The  unusual  spectacle  of  a  big  church 
filled,  as  seldom  is  any  theatre,  with  the  leading  business  men  and 
capitalists  of  New  York,  must  be  explained  on  natural  grounds. 
No  Moody,  no  Sankey,  no  timbrel-playing  of  the  Salvation  Army, 
could  have  held  this  audience.  The  secret  of  this  success  is  elo- 
quence. 

Phillips  Brooks,  in  his  splendid  personality,  —  for  he  is  a 
commanding  figure,  —  is  awe-inspiring  of  himself.  He  is  like  a 
vessel  which,  having  been  filled  by  nature  to  the  brim,  simply 
overflows.  His  congregation  yesterday,  representing  all  that  is 
eminent  in  business  circles,  or  rather  in  that  greatest  of  all  busi- 
ness circles  which  spreads  its  brilliant  circumference  south  of  Ful- 
ton Street,  practically  consisted  of  so  many  human  fishes.     These 


742  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

money-getters,  these  prosperous  and  for  the  most  part,  doubt- 
less, churchgoing  men,  sat  under  the  rainfall  of  his  eloquence  as 
though  they  had  for  months  been  famished. 

It  was  a  marvellous  spectacle.  He  told  them  nothing  which 
they  might  not  have  heard,  and  probably  had  heard  over  and  over, 
from  the  honest  lips  of  less  gifted  preachers,  but  it  all  seemed  to 
have  a  new  sound.      He  held  his  hearers  spellbound. 

We  are  not  concerned  so  much  with  what  Phillips  Brooks  said 
as  with  the  fact  that  in  these  days,  when  men  are  accused  of  such 
a  general  disregard  of  churchgoing,  business  and  professional  men 
on  a  week  day  should  crowd  a  church  to  listen  to  what  a  preacher 
has  to  say  of  God  and  of  man's  duty  to  Him.  There  is  in  such 
a  service  conducted  by  Phillips  Brooks  nothing  that  approaches 
the  sensational.  Nobody  goes  to  hear  him  to  be  amused  or  star- 
tled. None  of  the  pulpit  tricks  some  "drawing"  preachers  re- 
sort to,  none  of  the  paradoxical  rhetoric  or  novel  illustrations 
others  seek  out,  are  ever  used  by  Phillips  Brooks.  Were  he  that 
kind  of  a  preacher  he  might  possibly  fill  Old  Trinity  once  or  twice 
with  the  kind  of  an  audience  that  is  crowding  it  this  week,  but 
then  the  crowding  would  stop.  Busy  men  at  a  busy  hour  of  the 
business  day  have  no  time  to  spare  for  such  amusements.  These 
men  crowd  to  hear  Phillips  Brooks  because  he  is  an  earnest  and 
powerful  talker  with  a  sincere  message.  His  eloquence  is  so  sim- 
ple that  at  the  time  one  hardly  recognizes  it  as  eloquence.  It  is 
what  he  says  and  the  man  who  says  it,  not  his  manner  of  saying 
it,  which  attract  and  win.  Phillips  Brooks  appeals  to  men  as  one 
of  themselves,  who  has  himself  found  a  great  secret,  —  the  secret 
of  faith  in  the  unknown  God.  He  is  in  touch  with  the  modern 
world  in  all  its  science,  and  luxury,  and  progress.  He  knows  its 
thinking  and  its  philosophy.  He  is  a  part  of  it.  His  is  not  the 
narrow,  literal  belief  of  an  earnest  good  man,  whose  outlook  is 
bounded  by  the  horizon  of  his  creed.  He  is  as  great  a  contrast 
to  a  Moody  as  Colonel  Ingersoll  himself.  And  yet  there  is  in 
Phillips  Brooks's  every  utterance  the  same  ring  of  absolute  sin- 
cerity that  charms  in  Moody.  But  about  his  sincerity  and  his 
views  of  life  there  are,  besides  an  absence  of  the  conventional,  a 
Christ-like  directness  and  simplicity  in  reaching  the  heart  of  the 
matter,  and  a  Christ-like  recognition  of  the  wideness  of  the  spir- 
itual nature,  which  appeal  to  the  thoughtful  in  the  same  way  as 
the  words  of  Jesus  himself. 

Men  are  not  nearly  as  indifferent  to  religion  as  many  of  the 
signs  of  the  times  seem  to  indicate.  For  its  conventionalities 
they  care  little.  They  have  lost  faith  in  the  virtue  of  mere  dog- 
matism.    But  when  the  opportunity  is  given  them  to  hear  a  true 


jet.  54]       NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  743 

"message," — the  message  of  a  man  in  whose  breadth  of  view 
and  sincerity  of  conviction  they  have  confidence,  —  they  are 
ready,  even  eager  listeners.  The  crowds  that  throng  Old  Trinity 
are  typical  of  the  attitude  of  thinking  men  to-day.  They  are 
seeking  to  strengthen  a  faith  that  finds  much  to  shake  it,  and 
that  cannot  be  regained  by  words  of  professional  religion.  Words 
that  count  must  be  words  spoken  by  a  man  to  men. 

Another  most  intelligent  observer  seeking  at  a  later  time 
to  give  a  calm  estimate  of  the  man  who  had  produced  such 
"  a  marvellous  effect,"  writes:  — 

One  of  the  most  potent  secrets  of  Phillips  Brooks's  power  was 
unquestionably  his  complete  and  rounded  knowledge  of  all  the 
forces  amidst  which  he  lived.  His  large  work  and  immense 
influence  outside  his  parish  amply  prove  this.  With  a  type  of 
genius  that  linked  him  largely  with  the  outreaching  faith  and 
self-denial  of  an  age  of  greater  faith  than  this,  he  had  all  the 
practical  keenness  of  vision  that  linked  him  to  the  present.  He 
was  a  progressionist  to  the  letter.  Without  this  trait  he  could 
not  have  wielded  the  influence  he  did  over  the  business  men  of 
Wall  Street  in  New  York,  or  of  State  Street  in  Boston.  A  man 
of  mere  faith,  without  insight  into  all  their  methods  and  springs 
of  action,  could  not  have  held  those  men  day  after  day  during 
their  busy  hours  of  dollar-hunting. 

Before  dismissing  the  subject,  we  turn  for  a  moment  to 
the  preacher  himself,  as  he  is  preparing  for  utterance.  As 
soon  as  he  accepted  the  invitation,  several  months  before  the 
time  fixed  upon,  he  decided  upon  his  subject,  and  made  a 
synopsis  of  each  address.  First  he  had  taken  rough  notes  in 
pencil,  and  then  in  ink  drawn  up  the  more  matured  plan. 
During  the  intervening  time  he  was  revolving  the  topics  and 
their  method  of  treatment  in  his  mind.  He  spoke  extempo- 
raneously without  the  assistance  of  notes,  but  each  address 
meant  an  immense  amount  of  preparation.  Again,  judging 
from  the  appearance  of  these  analyses,  it  was  no  calm  prepa- 
ration that  he  made,  but  his  soul  was  heaving  with  excite- 
ment and  emotion,  as  he  dug  deep  into  the  recesses  of  his 
theme.  After  he  had  made  the  final  analyses  he  went  over 
them  in  review  with  interlineations  in  almost  every  line. 
But  all  this  only  prepared  the  way,  for  in  the  presence  of  his 


744  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

audience  he  was  set  free  and  lifted  up  to  say  things  with 
startling  power,  which  are  not  mentioned  in  his  plan.  He 
never  was  more  free,  and  therefore  more  himself,  than  when 
he  stood  in  the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York.  What 
he  was  endeavoring  to  do  was  only  in  more  intense  and  thor- 
ough fashion  that  which  he  sought  for  in  every  sermon. 
But  the  occasion  stimulated  him  with  the  possibility  of  pre- 
senting in  complete  and  condensed  form  the  total  picture 
of  life  and  of  man  in  relation  to  the  gospel  of  Christ.  He 
appears  determined  that  nothing  which  he  esteemed  of  vital 
importance  should  be  lost.  He  spoke  as  if  all  the  world 
were  listening. 

He  chose  "Freedom"  for  his  subject, — the  one  word 
most  revealing  men  to  themselves,  in  the  presence  and  under 
the  influence  of  an  enfeebling  fatalism,  which  had  come  in 
consequence  of  the  decline  of  individualism,  of  the  rise  of 
socialism,  of  theories  about  heredity,  and  of  the  reign  of 
universal  law.  Here  are  a  few  detached  sentences  from  his 
note-book :  — 

It  is  not  by  going  aside  from  life  but  by  going  deeper  into  it. 
The  full  understanding  of  life  is  the  renewal  of  life.  This  the 
old  Bible  idea  of  wisdom  and  folly. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  living,  one  to  be  given  up,  the  other  to 
be  assumed.  The  need  of  going  from  one  to  the  other  haunts 
every  man.  But  how?  One  says  in  reply,  "From  freedom  to 
imprisonment."  The  constant  presentation  of  this  view.  Its 
truth,  as  shown  also  in  civilization.  But  there  is  another  method. 
It  is  an  entrance  in  a  new  region  where  new  powers  awake. 
Without  rejecting  the  other  method,  this  must  be  the  best. 

Liberty  is  the  full  opportunity  to  be  one's  best.  Take  the 
matter  of  belief,  as  an  illustration.  The  question,  Must  I  be- 
lieve so  and  so  ?  A  liberal  faith  ought  to  believe  more,  not  less. 
There  is  the  other  question,  —  May  I  believe  ?  The  enlarged 
creed  is  an  enlarged  life.  Faith  in  the  Incarnation,  —  the  open 
field  of  a  new  truth. 

So  of  the  resolution  of  a  new  life.  Think  of  purity;  which  is 
negative,  and  which  is  positive  ?  It  is  not  that  the  pure  man  is 
losing  something,  but  the  impure.  The  glorious  self-indulgence 
at  the  end  of  all  self-denials. 

And  so  of  the  total  Christian  life.     The  dominion  of  words,  — 


jet.  54]       NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  745 

it  is  not  an  initiation,  it  is  life.  It  is  consecration  to  a  Master 
to  whom  you  belong.  Is  all  this  an  everlasting  disappointment 
and  degradation  of  the  nature?  No!  but  its  true  satisfaction. 
The  liberty  to  be  good ;  the  liberty  of  life  with  Him. 

What  value  does  this  give  to  sin?  It  takes  all  its  glory  and 
glamour  away  from  it.  The  awful  spell  of  that.  The  sense  of 
its  disgrace  and  meanness.  It  is  a  self-imposed  and  treasured 
slavery. 

And  yet  it  gives  sin  its  full  value  of  awfulness.  It  is  you,  the 
man,  the  true  son  of  God,  that  is  sinning.  The  awfulness  of  the 
chains  which  bind  a  king. 

Here  is  the  chance  for  every  man.  The  impulse  of  freedom  in 
every  soul.     The  nature's  homesickness. 

In  his  second  address  he  took  for  the  subject  "  Christ  the 
Liberator." 

Christ  had  shown  how  a  man  might  be  perfectly  pure  and  yet 
manly;  how  a  man  might  defy  conventionalities  in  the  name  of 
truth;  He  had  set  before  men  the  glory  of  character.  Christ 
was  free,  and  says  of  His  freedom  that  it  belonged  to  Him  as  the 
Son  of  God.  That  does  not  separate  us  from  Him,  but  brings  us 
closer  together.  Are  not  we  the  sons  of  God  ?  Jesus  was  full 
of  the  mystery  of  human  life.  This,  too,  is  freedom.  No  doc- 
trine could  do  all  this.  Our  religion  is  a  personal  religion.  It 
is  following  Christ. 

The  third  address,  "The  Process  of  the  Liberation,"  was 
interesting  as  showing  how  he  treated  the  endless  contro- 
versy, as  old  in  Christian  history  as  the  time  of  Pelagius 
and  Augustine,  —  the  question  of  the  relation  of  God's  grace 
to  human  freedom.  He  combats  lingering  notions  about 
election  which  still  hamper  men.  He  refers  the  whole  work 
of  salvation  to  God  alone,  as  Augustine  had  done,  and  the 
freedom  is  God's  gift. 

God  is  working  on  His  side  for  you  with  His  instruments. 
What  are  they?  All  your  experiences.  He  is  really  the  worker 
and  He  uses  them  all ;  the  sunshine  melting  and  the  iron  smiting. 
You  cry  out  to  Him,  "  Use  that  other, "  but  He  uses  what  He 
wills.  So  you  work,  and  at  last  the  wall  is  broken  down  and 
you  are  with  God.  And  then  comes  a  surprise  to  learn  how  long 
He  has  been  seeking  you,  even  when  you  were  a  boy.  At  last 
you  stand  in  His  freedom,  doing  His  will  for  His  love. 


746  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

The  subject  of  the  fourth  address  had  a  distinct  theological 
interest,  for  it  concerned  the  "  Freedom  of  Christian 
Thought."  It  stood  out  among  all  the  addresses  as  having 
made  the  most  profound  impression,  and  was  referred  to  as 
having  given  character  to  them  all.  It  cleared  the  intellec- 
tual horizon.  Phillips  Brooks  was  sensitive  to  a  widely  pre- 
vailing impression  that  the  clergy  were  not  free  to  speak  the 
full  truth,  or  even  to  think  freely,  because  they  were  bound 
by  subscription  to  theological  tenets  which  were  irrational, 
whatever  their  denomination  or  sect.  This  deep  and  wide- 
spread conviction  was  acting  as  a  subtle  barrier  against  the 
appeal  of  the  Christian  faith.  Then  there  was  the  large  body 
of  Christian  tenets  or  doctrines,  unintelligible  to  most  men, 
which  hung  like  a  dead  weight  upon  even  the  religious  mind. 
Intelligent  laymen  even,  who  went  to  church  or  recited  the 
creeds,  would  in  confidential  moments  admit  that  they  did  not 
know  anything  about  it,  whether  they  believed  or  did  not 
believe.  To  teach  men  the  meaning  of  dogmas,  or  the  dis- 
crimination of  theological  refinements,  was  too  vast  a  task  for 
a  course  of  addresses.  But  the  preacher  had  this  advantage, 
that  he  had  gained  his  own  freedom,  and  knew  that  he  was 
free,  not  by  denying  dogmas,  but  by  entering  into  their  spirit 
and  discerning  their  relation  of  life.  This  part  of  the  sub- 
ject he  touched  only  indirectly,  devoting  his  time  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  one  supreme  presupposition,  which,  if  it  were 
admitted,  covered  the  whole  ground. 

During  all  these  days  one  thought  must  have  arisen  in  many 
minds:  "All  very  well,  but  your  boasted  freedom  stops  with 
activity;  it  cannot  reach  to  thought;  that  is  all  enslaved."  Such 
thought  is  common.  It  is  sometimes  assumed  by  churches  and 
religious  books  that  it  is  true. 

If  true,  the  religion  could  not  hold  us  by  any  means,  and  it 
could  not  really  be  an  active  force.  Christ  claims  that  it  is  not 
true:  "Ye  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall  make  you 
free."  It  is  the  truth  itself  that  is  to  bring  freedom.  Let  us 
talk  of  this  to-day. 

I  think  I  know  something  of  what  it  means.  It  is  the  diffi- 
culty of  realizing  a  life  not  our  own ;  partly  also  the  sense  that 
it  is  too  good  and  great  to  be  true.     I  know  the  worse  side.     I 


jet.  54]      NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  747 

will  not  think  of  that.  Rather  let  me  think  of  the  doubter  who 
would  fain  believe  the  Christian  faith. 

What  is  the  Christian  faith?  The  need  of  definitions.  It  is 
Christ  the  Leader.  A  thousand  things  besides  attached  to  it. 
But  that  is  it.  It  is  the  Being  standing  there  in  history  and 
attaining  the  power  of  God  to  lead  men  into  new  life,  so  that 
the  desires  of  richer  life  find  fulfilment  in  Him.  Am  I  hamper- 
ing myself  in  that?  Not  unless  electricity  hampers  itself  when 
it  gathers  in  lightning. 

But  how  do  I  get  at  Him  ?  Just  as  the  people  in  Jerusalem 
got  at  Him.  Christ  Himself,  in  His  personal  character,  then 
faith  in  His  words  and  their  acceptance,  the  opening  up  of  their 
possibility  in  life.     Is  a  man  not  free  with  his  world  enlarged  ? 

Miracle,  yes!  That  means  that  the  world  has  larger  answers 
to  make  to  the  greater  power,  as  it  says  more  to  the  civilized 
than  to  the  savage.  It  bursts  to  larger  music  and  diviner  land- 
scape.    Miracle  does  happen  when  the  miracle  man  appears. 

And  how  for  me?  Why,  that  Being  claiming  my  confidence 
says  He  will  be  always  here  and  will  always  lead.  He  promises 
the  great  extension  of  Himself,  —  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  gives 
one  divine  commandment. 

That  is  the  Christian  faith.  The  other  things  connected  with 
it,  character  of  books,  forms  of  government,  interpretation  of 
His  words,  special  injunctions,  aye,  His  own  nature,  His  scheme 
of  penalties,  —  all  of  these  are  interesting,  but  Christianity  be- 
hind them  all.  Let  us  not  exclude  Christians  from  Christianity. 
Whoever  is  His  disciple  and  calls  Him  Master  is  a  Christian. 

What  does  Christ  do?  He  makes  God  real.  The  two  reasons 
for  believing  God's  existence, — the  world  is  intelligible  with 
Him,  and  a  great  puzzle  without  Him ;  and  Jesus  believed  Him. 
I  think  He  knew. 

I  honor  the  skeptic.  He  will  not  enter  this  region  uncon- 
vinced. Perhaps  he  is  demanding  conviction,  which  can  only 
come  when  he  is  inside.  Still,  honor  to  him.  Truthfulness  is 
more  than  truth.     But  his  is  not  a  larger,  't  is  a  smaller  life. 

The  fifth  address  was  entitled  "The  Christian  is  the  True 
Man."  The  sight  of  men  coming  to  these  services  raises  the 
question,  "  Have  they  left  one  world  for  another,  or  have  they 
mounted  to  the  highest  conception  of  their  whole  world?" 

The  way  people  keep  their  religion ;  there  is  a  loss  of  conti- 
nuity ;  once  in  a  while  a  run  across  from  one  world  to  the  other ; 
then  back  to  the  old  life. 


748  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

The  Christian  life  is  the  human  life.  The  same,  only  filled 
out  entirely.  Do  I  say  only  ?  What  can  he  more  ?  The  abso- 
lute way  in  which  Christ  is  recognized  as  the  truest  man,  —  man 
forever  and  forever,  —  and  all  the  more  as  God. 

The  noble  value  of  human  life  is  the  first  truth  of  religion. 
The  truth  of  the  Incarnation,  the  truth  of  the  Cross.  Along 
these  lines  to  God.  Christ  is  nearer  to  us  than  most  great  and 
good  men.  The  dreadfulness  of  cynicism.  Its  ineffable  selfish- 
ness. The  duty  and  privilege  of  living.  The  dreadfulness  of 
suicide ;  its  horrible  cowardice. 

The  simple  first  emotions,  how  they  are  at  the  root  of  every- 
thing! Men  advance  only  as  these  advance.  Delusion  of  scien- 
tific advance.  Talk  from  here  to  Calcutta,  or  journey  to  Cali- 
fornia. What  to  say?  what  for?  Christ  knew  none  of  these 
things.  The  nobility  of  man,  that  is  crreater.  Character  at  the 
centre  of  all. 

The  strong  sense  of  the  need  of  character  in  special  acts.  No 
special  skill  makes  up  for  its  absence.  The  great  victories,  — 
justice,  love,  sympathy.  Over  all  is  the  Christian  life.  The 
elevation  of  these  human  goodnesses  to  their  completeness,  but 
the  same  things  still,  —  love  to  man  and  to  God,  gratitude,  truth, 
the  service  rendered  for  Christ's  sake  to  fellow  men. 

When  I  say  this,  then  the  whole  essentialness  of  Christian  life 
opens;  the  great  charge  against  it  of  arbitrariness  disappears. 
Hell  and  heaven,  what  shall  they  be?  their  sorrow  and  their  joy? 
The  suffering  is  in  the  sin,  the  joy  is  in  the  holiness.  Heaven 
and  hell  are  here.      Spiritual  revealment. 

The  naturalization  which  this  gives  to  our  best  moments. 
They  are  not  glimpses  of  another  world.  They  are  liftings  of 
this  world  into  the  light  of  God.  The  easy  way  in  which  we 
expect  our  lowest  to  repeat  itself,  but  not  our  highest.  Your 
best  moments  are  your  truest. 

The  great  conception  of  doing  things  for  God.  How  it  trans- 
figures and  glorifies  duty  and  makes  the  most  familiar  splendid. 

The  great  secret  is  to  insist  on  doing  such  things  as  shall  need 
God.  You  are  doing  too  small  things.  Do  larger,  and  you  will 
be  on  your  knees  calling  for  God. 

The  two  great  rites  of  the  Christian  church.  Their  narrowness 
now,  but  how  great  as  sacraments  in  their  splendid  universal 
humanness :  (1)  Consecration  (baptism),  or  the  life  put  in  God's 
hands.     (2)  Dependence  (the  Lord's  Supper),  the  life  fed  on  God. 

In  the  last  address,  when  the  interest  which  had  been 
daily  increasing  culminated,   he  began   by  expressing  the 


jet.  54]      NEW   YORK   ADDRESSES  749 

sense  and  fear  of  too  much  talk  lest  he  should  have  compli- 
cated what  is  simple,  but  also  the  rejoicing  confidence  that 
"when  we  plead  with  one  another,  there  is  forever  the  great 
pleading  power  of  God  "  standing  behind  the  appeal,  as  the 
power  of  nature  with  the  physician  or  the  law  of  gravitation 
with  the  mechanic. 

I  could  never  get  hold  of  the  theology  of  those  who  stand  in 
perpetual  amazement  before  the  spectacle  of  God's  love  to  his 
children.      That  love  seems  to  me  more  and  more  natural. 

What  I  have  tried  to  do  is  to  make  the  whole  seem  natural. 
You  know  a  little  more  truth ;  then  a  little  more  obedience,  then 
more  truth;  forever  so.  But  all  depends  on  being  in  earnest. 
Assume  earnestness. 

Do  you  say,  What  can  I  do?  As  your  brother,  let  me  try  to 
tell  you. 

(1)  Leave  off  your  sin.  (2)  Do  your  personal  duty.  (3)  Pray, 
simply,  passionately,  earnestly.  (4)  The  Bible  ;  read  it  till  that 
Christ  figure  is  before  you.  (5)  The  Church,  which  is  the  embodi- 
ment of  all.      If  it  is  weak,  make  it  strong. 

Unless  you  do  these  things  you  have  no  right  to  complain  that 
the  new  life  does  not  come  in  and  you  are  not  free.  These  are 
not  a  set  of  rules.     They  are  the  windows  of  the  soul. 

These  are  the  great  religious  words  ever  deepening :  — 

(1)  Separation  from  the  world ;  not  the  desert  or  cell,  but  in- 
dependence by  service. 

(2)  Salvation  of  the  soul,  not  from  pain,  but  from  sin. 

(3)  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God,  with  glorious  and  glad  welcome. 
He  is  always  here. 

Be  such  a  man  that  if  all  men  were  like  you  the  world  would 
be  saved. 

Farewell,  my  friends.  It  is  not  for  long,  and  yet  it  is  so  long. 
For  the  world  will  be  here  after  we  are  gone,  and  after  the  world 
is  gone  we  shall  live  forever.  Whatever  may  come  hereafter, 
not  this  particular  opportunity  to  serve  God  will  come  again. 
Catch  to-day.  Be  men;  be  men.  Love  God.  Be  brave.  Be 
true.  And  at  last,  may  we  say  as  He  said,  "Father,  I  have 
glorified  Thee  on  the  earth." 

Those  who  were  following  Phillips  Brooks  at  this  time,  as 
he  pursued  his  wonderful  career,  felt  that  some  mysterious 
change  was  passing  over  him,  intensifying  his  power,  pro- 
ducing effects  upon  his  congregation  which  no  words  are  ade- 


750  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1890 

quate  to  represent.  Here  is  an  extract  from  a  Boston  paper, 
important  because  it  records  what  many  were  thinking,  writ- 
ten just  after  his  return  from  New  York,  and  referring  to 
his  work  there :  — 

According  to  all  accounts  that  quality  which  has  entered  into 
Dr.  Brooks's  sermons,  especially  of  late,  was  felt  in  a  marked 
degree  by  his  New  York  audience.  Always  strong,  earnest,  and 
filled  with  the  dignity  of  his  words  and  work,  it  has  been  a  matter 
for  comment  in  Boston  that  since  his  return  from  his  last  journey 
[the  visit  to  Japan]  he  has  brought  to  bear  a  deeper  force  than 
ever,  a  more  impassioned  delivery  of  thought,  and  an  apparent 
burning  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  impressing  upon  the  people 
the  truth  of  which  he  is  convinced.  The  repressed  but  tremendous 
effect  of  yesterday's  sermon  in  New  York  confirms  the  belief 
that  there  is  new  power  in  his  utterance,  a  sense  of  having  been 
touched  by  the  coal  that  the  world's  prophets  have  felt  when  they 
have  spoken  enduring  words  to  those  who  "hear  indeed  but  under- 
stand not." 

This  "new  power  of  utterance"  was  now  increasingly 
manifest  in  every  sermon,  but  it  cannot  be  described.  One 
thing  was  apparent,  however,  that  the  whole  man  was  visibly 
affected  when  he  preached.  It  was  not  so  in  his  earlier  min- 
istry, when  he  stood  unimpassioned  and  unmoved,  thrilling 
his  audience  till  it  took  them  long  to  recover  their  normal 
mood,  but  himself  calm  in  the  inner  recesses  of  his  spirit, 
and  maintaining  his  self -composure.  What  struck  his  hear- 
ers now  was  the  torrent  of  feeling  within  him,  as  he  poured 
forth  his  burning  words.  He  was  preaching  as  if  under  the 
stress  of  anxiety  that  the  whole  truth  should  be  said  before 
it  was  too  late,  that  not  one  particle  of  the  power  which  God 
had  given  him  should  be  wasted  or  lost.  He  had  mastered 
the  rules  of  rhetoric  and  studied  the  art  of  composition,  and 
accumulated  from  life  the  similes  it  could  offer ;  but  all  this 
only  to  gain  his  freedom  in  the  pulpit,  where  he  rose  above 
all  artificial  restrictions  and  appeared  in  his  real  greatness,  a 
man  addressing  his  fellows  with  a  gift  of  penetrating  every 
heart.  It  was  the  culmination  of  the  process  by  which  the 
simple  manhood  in  him  had  become  a  stronger  appeal  than 
any  intellectual  endowment. 


jet.  54]      THE  NEW   UTTERANCE  751 

One  would  like  to  linger  over  many  of  the  sermons  preached 
in  a  year  which  seems  to  have  been  among  the  most  prolific 
in  his  ministry.  Especially  was  the  Lenten  season  rich  in 
these  impressive  sermons.  And  what  was  noticeable  was  his 
inclination  to  dwell  more  on  the  passive  side  of  the  life  of 
Christ,  His  sufferings  and  cross  in  their  deeper  relations  to 
Christian  experience.  He  saw  the  Atonement  in  the  light  of 
the  Divine  Fatherhood,  as  that  for  which  the  long  process 
of  thought  and  inquiry  into  the  meaning  of  Christ's  death 
had  been  preparing  the  way.  He  seemed  also  to  be  review- 
ing his  deeper  theological  convictions,  and  giving  them  a 
firmer  expression.  He  had  refused  to  dogmatize  upon  the 
subject  of  the  duration  of  future  punishment,  but  in  a  sermon 
on  the  text  "Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord,"  he  speaks  of  the  "blessedness"  of  "Eternal  Hope" 
and  of  "our  right  to  keep  it." 

How  the  mind  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  working  in  other 
directions  at  this  time  may  be  seen  in  an  essay  entitled 
"Orthodoxy,"  read  before  the  Clericus  Club,  June  2,  1890. 
The  essay  has  been  already  referred  to  in  a  previous  chapter, 
but  a  few  words  may  be  added  here  regarding  the  time  and 
the  motive  which  led  him  to  write.  He  saw  the  symptom, 
as  he  believed,  of  an  ecclesiastical  reaction,  waving  this 
word  on  its  banner.  He  seems  to  challenge  the  coming 
storm  in  his  own  person.  He  denounces  orthodoxy  as  "born 
of  fear,  and  as  having  no  natural  heritage  either  from  hope 
or  love."  He  admitted  that  orthodoxy  had  a  place  and  an 
importance,  but  they  were  both  inferior. 

It  is  an  arrogant,  pushing  thing,  crowding  itself  into  thrones 
where  it  has  no  right.  ...  Is  not  the  whole  sum  of  the  matter 
this,  that  orthodoxy  as  a  principle  of  action  or  a  standard  of  belief 
is  obsolete  and  dead?  It  is  not  that  the  substance  of  orthodoxy 
has  been  altered,  but  that  the  very  principle  of  orthodoxy  has  been 
essentially  disowned.  It  is  not  conceivable  now  that  any  council, 
however  oecumenically  constituted,  should  so  pronounce  on  truth 
that  its  decrees  should  have  any  weight  with  thinking  men,  save 
what  might  seem  legitimately  to  belong  to  the  character  and  wis- 
dom of  the  persons  who  composed  the  council.  Personal  judg- 
ment is  on  the  throne,  and  will  remain  there,  — personal  judg- 


752  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

ment,  enlightened  by  all  the  wisdom,  past  or  present,  which  it 
can  summon  to  its  aid,  but  forming  finally  its  own  conclusions 
and  standing  by  them  in  the  sight  of  God,  whether  it  stands  in 
a  great  company  or  stands  alone. 

Mr.  Brooks  preached  the  Baccalaureate  Sermon  at  Harvard 
before  the  class  of_1890,  and  performed  the  same  service  for 
the  graduating  class  of  the  Institute  of  Technology.  In  the 
year's  record  of  preaching,  two  sermons  stand  out  with  pecul- 
iar vividness,  where  he  seized  the  allegories  of  history  and 
brought  them  home  to  the  individual  soul.  They  are  both 
of  them  poems,  where  the  tragic  element  is  supreme :  "  The 
Egyptians  dead  upon  the  Seashore"  and  the  "Feast  of  Bel- 
shazzar."  These  were  written  sermons,  while  for  the  most 
part  his  preaching  was  extempore.  In  the  year  1890  he 
wrote  but  six  sermons.  He  was  not  satisfied  with  himself, 
and  bemoaned  the  days  when  the  sermon  was  the  event  of 
the  week.  He  told  one  of  his  friends  at  this  time  that  he 
intended  to  give  up  extempore  preaching  and  go  back  again 
to  the  written  sermon.  From  this  account  of  his  preaching 
we  turn  to  his  letters,  which  cover  the  year.  To  Dr.  Farrar 
he  writes :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  12,  1890. 
My  very  dear  Archdeacon,  —  This  New  Year  .  .  .  starts 
well,  I  think,  in  spite  of  a  thousand  perverse  things  and  people 
which  one  would  like  to  rectify  or  obliterate,  and  cannot.  The 
thing  which  grows  on  me  most  is  the  splendid  sense  of  liberty  which 
is  everywhere,  which  no  sight  of  the  extravagances  and  enormities 
to  which  it  gives  place  can  make  to  seem  anything  but  splendid.  I 
rather  think  that  there  has  never  been  a  time  to  which,  if  we  were 
suddenly  transferred,  we  should  not  feel  as  if  we  woke  up  in  a  sti- 
fling dungeon  with  chains  at  hand  and  heel.  So  let  us  rejoice  and 
hope  great  things  of  1890.  I  cannot  picture  your  house  with  the 
changed  look  that  it  must  have  now  that  your  children  have,  so 
many  of  them,  gone.  But  be  thankful  that  you  are  not  a  miser- 
able celibate,  whose  being  is  bounded  by  the  ground  his  two  feet 
stand  on.  Browning  and  Lightfoot  both  are  gone,  and  the  world 
is  vastly  poorer.  I  think  of  both  of  them  as  you  gave  me  the 
privilege  of  seeing  them  at  your  house,  and  their  great  work  is 
nearer  and  more  real  to  me  because  of  your  kindness.  I  will  not 
believe  that  the  new  great  Poet  is  not  near  at  hand.     I  thought  I 


jet.  54]     EXTRACTS  FROM   LETTERS        753 

met  him  in  the  street  yesterday,   but  perhaps  I  was  mistaken. 
But  he  will  come  soon! 

Eef erring  to  the  death  of  Professor  Bowen,  who  had  been 
his  instructor  at  Harvard,  he  says  in  a  letter  to  Rev.  Arthur 
Brooks :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  23, 1890. 

Professor  Bowen  is  dead.  The  old  Cambridge  is  fast  disap- 
pearing. Childs  and  Lane  and  Cooke  are  the  veterans  now. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  humanity  in  Bowen;  at  least  he  knew 
what  it  was  to  be  a  philosopher  if  he  was  not  one  himself,  and 
he  was,  and  dared  to  call  himself,  a  Christian. 

While  staying  in  New  York  at  the  time  when  he  was 
giving  his  addresses  at  Trinity  Church,  a  gentleman  called 
upon  him  for  the  purpose  of  interviewing  him  and  of  pub- 
lishing the  results  of  the  interview  in  a  Philadelphia  paper. 
When  the  article  appeared  headed  "Phillips  Brooks's  Broad 
Views  about  Modern  Christianity  —  Truth,  not  Dogmas, 
Wanted,"  Mr.  Cooper  was  disturbed  at  the  unqualified,  al- 
most excited  tone  of  the  remarks  reported  by  the  inter- 
viewer, and  wrote  to  know  if  he  had  been  reported  correctly. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  5,  1890. 

Mv  dear  Cooper,  —  One  day  last  week,  when  I  was  staying 
with  Arthur  in  New  York,  a  most  respectable  man  called  on  me 
and  introduced  a  friend  whose  name  I  did  not  catch.  We  talked 
for  about  half  an  hour.  In  the. course  of  conversation  he  said  that 
he  had  something  to  do  with  the  New  York  "Sun."  I  have  not 
the  slightest  recollection  of  his  mentioning  any  Philadelphia  paper, 
or  of  his  saying  anything  about  reporting  our  conversation.  If 
he  had  asked  my  consent  I  should  certainly  have  refused  it. 

This  is  the  report  which  you  have  sent  me  in  "  The  Press." 
As  to  the  matter  of  it,  it  follows  the  general  line  of  our  conversa- 
tion, and  I  recognize  a  remark  of  mine  here  and  there.  I  hope  I 
do  not  wholly  talk  like  that.  The  whole  thing  teaches  me  again 
not  to  talk  freely  with  any  living  fellow  creature,  unless  you  want 
to  see  what  he  thinks  you  said,  or  thinks  that  you  ought  to  have 
said,  in  the  next  newspaper.  Of  course  there  is  nothing  to  be 
done  about  it.  It  will  die  the  quiet  death  which  comes  to  rub- 
bish, and  the  world  will  go  on  very  much  the  same. 

The  report  presents  him  as  a  radical  reformer,  eagerly 
vol.  n 


754  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

awaiting  some  great  religious  revolution  in  the  near  future. 
But  it  should  be  said,  in  justice  to  the  interviewer,  that  it 
was  a  very  difficult  thing  to  give  Phillips  Brooks  either  in 
preaching  or  in  conversation.  He  once  delivered  an  impor- 
tant address,  when  two  stenographers  took  down  his  words, 
but  their  reports  when  written  out  differed  so  greatly  that  it 
was  impossible  to  determine  which  was  correct,  and  the  pro- 
posal to  publish  his  speech  was  in  consequence  abandoned. 
Many  reports  of  interviews  with  Mr.  Brooks  have  found 
their  way  into  print,  which  must  be  read  with  allowance  for 
the  personal  equation  of  those  who  talked  with  him.  He  had 
a  way  of  making  those  with  whom  he  talked  feel  that  he 
agreed  with  them,  for  he  was  quick  to  recognize  the  many 
aspects  of  truth  and  the  many  attitudes  of  men  in  regard  to 
it.  His  sympathy,  his  carelessness  about  qualification  of  his 
remarks,  led  to  misapprehension.  He  was  more  comprehen- 
sive, and  also  more  conservative,  than  reports  of  his  conver- 
sations would  imply. 

Among  the  letters  he  wrote  to  those  who  thanked  him  for 
his  services  in  New 'York  is  one  to  Bishop  Potter,  who  had 
also  enclosed  to  him  a  newspaper  cutting  containing  his  por- 
trait :  — 

233  Ciarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  6,  1890. 

Mv  dear  Henry,  —  I  thank  you  truly  for  your  most  kind 
letter,  and  for  what  you  say  about  my  visit  to  New  York.  It 
was  full  of  interest  to  me,  and  did  me  good.  If  it  did  anybody 
else  good,  and  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  is  satisfied  that  it  did 
nobody  harm,  I  am  devoutly  grateful  and  glad. 

I  was  deeply  impressed  and  touched  by  Dr.  Dix's  courtesy  and 
generous  spirit,  first,  in  inviting  me,  and  then,  in  the  welcome 
which  he  gave  me  when  I  came.  I  am  sorry  that  I  did  not  get 
sight  of  you;  but  they  were  not  very  happy  days  for  social 
pleasures. 

And  Smedley  says  I  looked  like  this!  I  hope  that  you  are 
well  and  happy,  and  I  am 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  P.  B. 

On  May  14  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Pittsfield,  visiting  the 
Rev.  William  Wilberforce  Newton,  and  preaching  the  ser- 
mon  on   the   occasion  of  the  opening  of  the  new  church. 


^t.  54]   EXTRACTS   FROM  LETTERS         755 

Many  of  the  clergy  of  the  diocese  were  present,  and  also  the 
pastors  of  the  various  churches  in  Pittsfield.  One  of  the 
interesting  events  of  the  morning  service  was  the  baptism  by 
Mr.  Brooks  of  the  infant  daughter  of  the  rector.  A  photo- 
graph was  afterwards  taken  of  Mr.  Brooks  holding  the  child 
in  his  arms,  which  has  caught  a  characteristic  expression 
given  in  no  other  portrait.1  People  from  far  and  near  had 
come  to  Pittsfield  attracted  by  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of 
the  church  and  by  the  reputation  of  Phillips  Brooks.  Among 
others  was  a  Shaker  brother,  from  a  neighboring  settlement, 
who  was  anxious  to  show  him  that  his  tenets  were  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  Shaker  creed.  Failing  to  reach  him,  he 
wrote  a  long  letter,  expounding  the  faith  as  held  by  the 
Shaker  community.  The  letter  was  addressed  to  "Pastor 
Phillips  Brooks,  the  Celebrated  Preacher."     In  a  letter  to 

Kev.  C.  A.  L.  Kichards  he  says :  — 

Boston,  May  24, 1890. 
Thank  you  for  sending  me  the  Martineau  article  [a  notice  of 
the  Seat  of  Authority  in  Religion].  How  much  better  and  de- 
vouter  such  books  are  than  all  the  "Lux  Mundi "  sort  of  thing 
which  is  pulling  and  hauling  at  systems  and  truths  to  make  them 
fit  one  another,  which  they  don't  and  won't. 

It  had  been  Mr.  Brooks's  intention  to  spend  the  summer 
at  North  Andover,  and  he  had  so  informed  his  friends ;  but 
he  seems  to  have  suddenly  changed  his  mind  and  decided 
upon  a  summer  in  Europe.  From  Switzerland  he  writes  to 
Rev.  Reuben  Kidner,  and  speaks  his  mind  on  surpliced 
female  choirs :  — 

Hotel  Clerc,  Mabtigny,  August  17,  1890. 

Dear  Kidner,  —  Thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  here  I  send 
you  greeting  of  the  kindest  kind. 

Not  a  surpliced  female  choir,  my  dear  friend !  Almost  any- 
thing but  that !  But  let  us  set  ourselves  against  that  most  fan- 
tastic and  frivolous  affectation  which  has  turned  up  in  these  days, 
when  surely  the  Church  is  young-ladyish  enough  without  putting 
young-ladyism  decorated  for  a  spectacle  in  the  seat  of  prominence 
and  honor.  Surely  it  is  amazing  how  much  attention  clothes  en- 
list in  all  the  operations  of  our  great  Communion.      Let  us  keep 

1  The  portrait  is  published  in  The  Child  and  the  Bishop :  Memorabilia  of  Bt. 
Bev.  Phillips  Brooks,  by  an  Old  Friend.    Boston,  1894. 


756  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1890 

our  simplicity,   and  so,   no  vested  female  choirs!     Almost  any- 
thing hut  that ! 

I  hope  you  and  Roland  Cotton  Smith  and  the  others  are  work- 
ing out  the  question  of  the  Vincent  Hospital,  and  that  I  shall 
find  it  all  arranged  on  my  return.  It  is  a  pretty  problem  with 
difficulties  of  its  own,  but  I  am  sure  that  it  is  capable  of  being 
worked  out  into  a  beautiful  and  unique  institution.  Pray  use  all 
your  ingenuity  and  get  it  done. 

In  a  letter  to  Rev.  John  C.  Brooks  he  speaks  of  a  visit  to 

Tennyson :  — 

Lucerne,  August  25,  1890. 
I  had  a  delightful  little  visit  to  Tennyson  at  his  house  at  All- 
worth.  He  has  grown  very  old,  but  is  bright  and  clear-headed, 
and  may  give  us  some  new  verses  yet.  Just  after  I  left  England 
Newman  died,  and  all  the  pulpit  and  press  have  been  full  of  the 
laudation  and  discussion  of  him  ever  since.  He  was  a  remark- 
able man,  by  no  means  of  the  first  class,  for  he  never  got  a  final 
principle  nor  showed  a  truly  brave  mind;  but  there  was  great 
beauty  in  his  character,  and  his  intellect  was  very  subtle. 

This  summer  in  Europe  was  a  happy  one.  Mr.  Brooks 
was  furnished  with  letters  of  introduction  by  his  English 
friends,  which  enabled  him  to  see  what  he  wished  in  places 
not  hitherto  visited.  He  wandered  through  Devonshire  and 
Cornwall,  going  also  to  the  English  Andover  out  of  respect 
for  its  associations.  While  he  was  in  London  he  was  moved 
once  more  to  the  writing  of  sonnets.  It  was  now  many  years 
since  his  poetic  mood  had  tempted  him  in  this  direction. 
One  of  these  sonnets  was  entitled 

HAPPINESS   AND   CONTENT 

Now  will  I  find  the  traitor  where  he  hides, 

The  culprit,  Happiness,  who  did  me  wrong. 
He  came  to  me  with  trumpet  and  with  song, 

Even  as  he  comes  to  Victory  and  to  brides. 

With  rich  delights  he  hung  my  sombre  walls, 

And  taught  gay  dances  to  the  serious  hours, 

His  footsteps  thronged  the  vacant  mead  with  flowers, 

His  breath  with  music  filled  the  silent  halls. 

And  then  he  vanished.     But,  the  day  he  went, 
The  central  jewel  of  my  house  he  stole, 
The  precious  jewel  which  is  called  Content, 


jet.  54]  SONNETS  757 

Without  which  no  man  keeps  a  living  soul. 
The  thief  I  '11  find.     The  theft  he  shall  restore, 
Then  he  may  go.     I  covet  him  no  more. 

Another  sonnet  was  inspired  by  Titian's  Madonna  and 
Child  in  the  National  Gallery :  — 

MADONNA  AND   CHILD 

He  's  hers!     He  's  all  the  world's,  yet  still  he  's  hers! 

The  Christ-child  smiling  upon  Mary's  knee! 
'Mid  the  world's  worship  still  her  heart  avers, 

"The  child  divine  belongeth  unto  me." 
So  kneel,  sweet  Catherine,  and  tell  thy  love ; 

Haste,  John,  thy  flowery  tribute  to  present; 
A  holier  heaven  is  beaming  from  above 

In  the  young  mother's  face  of  calm  content. 
All  else  are  restless;  she  alone  is  still; 

In  pure  devotion  all  desire  doth  cease; 
There  is  no  tide  of  thought  or  wind  of  will 

On  the  broad  ocean  of  her  perfect  peace. 
No  fear  of  pain  to  come  her  spirit  stirs, 

Handmaid  and  mother  she !     And  he  is  hers ! 

Immediately  on  his  return  to  Boston  he  wrote  to  Professor 
F.  G.  Peabody  that  he  was  ready  to  take  up  his  work  at 
Harvard :  — 

Boston,  September  13,  1890. 

Dear  Dr.  Peabody,  —  I  have  landed  to-day  and  found  your 
note  of  the  29th  of  August.  It  is  good  to  get  tidings  of  the 
chief,  and  to  know  that  he  is  well  and  eager  for  the  fray.  .  .  . 
Yes,  I  will  do  what  you  want  of  me  as  far  as  ever  I  can.  I  will 
come  on  the  evening  of  September  28  and  speak  my  little  piece. 
I  will  take  morning  chapel  from  Monday,  October  13,  to  Satur- 
day, November  1,  inclusive,  and  Sunday  evening,  November  19 
and  26.  Anything  else  that  you  want  me  to  do  and  that  I  can 
do,  I  will  do  gladly,  and  I  am  ever 
Faithfully  yours, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

In  letters  to  his  friends  he  makes  allusion  to  the  summer 
wanderings  in  Europe :  — 

I  have  had  a  bright,  pleasant  summer  of  the  kind  which  makes 
no  history,  but  leaves  a  pleasant  taste  in  the  mouth.     And  now 


758  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

even  the  door  bell  has  a  pleasant  sound,  because  it  means  the  old 
familiar  life  and  work. 

It  was  a  quiet  little  thing,  the  journey  was,  but  very  pleasant. 
Two  placid  voyages  with  interesting  people  enough  on  board; 
three  weeks  in  England  and  three  weeks  in  Switzerland ;  the  old 
places  which  we  knew  so  well,  —  Chamouni  and  Interlaken, 
and  Lucerne,  Paris,  and  London,  all  very  delightful  and  refresh- 
ing. It  went  without  an  accident  or  disappointment,  and  when 
we  stepped  ashore  on  Saturday,  it  seemed  easy  enough  to  be 
thankful. 

The  burden  of  the  familiar  letters  from  233  Clarendon 
Street,  which  went  forth  at  once  to  his  friends,  was  an  ur- 
gent invitation  to  come  and  see  him.  He  should  be  expect- 
ing them  at  every  ring  of  the  door  bell.  "Come  at  once." 
"I  will  put  prohibitory  marks  against  the  calendar."  Even 
the  "precious  fragments"  of  their  time  were  besought  amid 
many  engagements,  some  of  them  "vexatious."  The  Church 
Congress  was  to  meet  in  Philadelphia  in  November,  when  he 
was  to  read  a  paper  entitled  "The  Conditions  of  Church 
Growth  in  Missionary  Lands." 1  But  the  prospect  of  a  visit 
to  Philadelphia  seemed  to  loom  up  more  largely  to  his  im- 
agination than  the  subject  of  his  paper.  How  he  looked  for- 
ward to  the  visit  is  shown  by  this  letter  to  McVickar :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  8, 1890. 
Dear  William,  —  You  do  not  know  how  I  am  counting  on 
next  week ;  it  is  gilding  everything  and  making  the  roughest  sur- 
faces run  smoothly.  I  don't  care  what  happens  to-day  or  to- 
morrow, for  to-morrow  night  I  take  the  train  for  New  York.  I 
shall  arrive  there  early  on  Monday  morning,  and  break  my  fast 
with  Arthur.  Then  I  have  one  or  two  errands  to  do  in  the  great 
city,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  shall  get  aboard  a  train  and  come 
to  you.  I  will  not  be  later  than  five  o'clock  in  presenting  myself 
at  your  hospitable  door,  and  then  a  good  long  week  of  brotherly 
intercourse  and  mutual  improvement,  and  a  high  old  time !  Ah, 
it  is  these  oases  that  make  the  desert  of  my  life  worth  travelling, 
but  how  thirsty  one's  lips  do  get  for  them,  sometimes,  and  when 
they  seem  to  be  close  at  hand  how  hard  it  is  to  wait  until  day 
after  to-morrow !     It  was  good  of  you  to  want  to  keep  me  over 

1  Cf.  Essays  and  Addresses,  pp.  198  ff. 


jet.  54]  SERMONS  759 

the  following  Sunday;  I  will  stay  with  delight.  Early  on  Mon- 
day morning,  the  17th,  I  must  be  off  and  reach  Boston  that 
night,  because  on  Tuesday,  the  18  th,  ten  million  women  are  to 
hold  an  assembly  in  Trinity  Church,  and  I  am  to  preside  over 
what  they  are  pleased  to  call  their  deliberations.  But  how  far 
off  that  seems,  and  not  till  it  is  many  days  nearer  than  it  seems 
now  will  I  give  myself  the  least  particle  of  trouble  concerning  it. 
Somehow  I  find  myself  thinking  very  little  about  the  Congress, 
even  about  "the  conditions  of  church  growth  in  foreign  lands," 
and  very  much  about  you  and  the  happy  idle  days !  But  no  doubt 
the  Congress  will  be  interesting  enough  when  one  gets  into  it. 
Only  there  must  be  hours  when  we  forget  it  all  and  simply  revel 
in  idleness  and  friendship. 

Good-by.     Soon  after  you  get  this  you  will  see  me. 

Affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 

Late  in  the  fall  Mr.  Brooks  published  his  fifth  and  last 
volume  of  sermons,  dedicating  it,  "  To  the  memory  of  my 
brother,  George  Brooks,  who  died  in  the  great  war."  Many 
sermons  are  here  which  must  be  counted  among  his  best, 
such,  for  example,  as  "Backgrounds  and  Foregrounds  "  and 
"The  Planter  and  the  Rain,"  both  written  in  1889.  An 
important  sermon  is  "The  Seriousness  of  Life,"  from  the 
text,  "Let  not  God  speak  to  us  lest  we  die,"  which  has  been 
mentioned  in  a  previous  chapter,  where  the  impression  it 
made  was  described.  Another  sermon,  written  from  the 
depths  of  his  own  experience,  is  the  "Silence  of  Christ,"  — 
"But  He  answered  her  not  a  word."  "The  Priority  of 
God  "  was  a  sermon  whose  idea  was  long  in  his  mind  before 
he  wrote,  where  the  God-consciousness  is  presented  in  which 
he  lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being.  He  here  contrasts 
the  phrase  "the  religious  world"  as  employed  in  the  news- 
papers with  the  reality,  the  religious  world  as  it  should  be :  — 

What  a  poor,  petty,  vulgar  thing  that  old  phrase,  "the  reli- 
gious world, "  has  often  been  made  to  mean,  —  a  little  section  of 
humanity  claiming  monopoly  of  divine  influences,  and  making  the 
whole  thought  of  man's  intercourse  with  God  cheap  and  irreverent 
by  vicious  quarrels  and  mercenary  selfishness ;  the  world  of  eccle- 
siastical machinery  and  conventions  and  arrangements.  But  look ! 
See  what  the  religious  world  really  is  in  its  idea,  and  shall  be 
when  it  shall  finally  be  realized  r     A  world  everywhere  aware  of 


76o  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1890 

and  rejoicing  in  the  priority  of  God,  feeling  all  power  flow  out 
from  Him,  and  sending  all  action  back  to  report  itself  to  Him 
for  judgment,  —  a  world  where  goodness  means  obedience  to  God, 
and  sin  means  disloyalty  to  God,  and  progress  means  growth  in 
the  power  to  utter  God,  and  knowledge  means  the  understanding 
of  God's  thought,  and  happiness  means  the  peace  of  God's  ap- 
proval.    That  is  the  religious  world. 

The  sermon  is  also  here  which  Principal  Tulloch  pro- 
nounced the  finest  he  had  ever  heard,  "The  Opening  of 
the  Eyes,"  where  Christ  seems  to  stand  forth  in  visible  pre- 
sence so  vivid  is  the  insight  into  His  personality.  But  Mr. 
Brooks  gave  the  precedence  in  his  own  judgment  to  the  ser- 
mon "The  Light  of  the  World,"  whence  the  volume  takes  its 
title.  There  is  here  also  what  seems  like  prophetic  intima- 
tion, in  the  sermon  which  closes  the  book,  "The  Certain 
End."  These  are  some  of  the  titles;  one  would  like  to  give 
them  all,  for  every  sermon  has  its  peculiar  beauty  and  sig- 
nificance. And  yet  the  volume  fails  to  represent  him  in  the 
fulness  of  his  power,  in  these  last  years,  when  in  extempora- 
neous utterances,  whose  inspiration  was  in  the  passing  mo- 
ment, he  seemed  to  transcend  himself  and  to  produce  effects 
ever  to  be  remembered,  but  impossible  to  describe. 

To  the  Kev.  C.  A.  L.  Richards,  who  had  called  attention 
to  an  obscure  sentence  in  the  sermon  "The  Light  of  the 
World,"  he  wrote :  — 

Boston,  December  18,  1890. 

Thank  you  for  what  you  kindly  say  about  the  sermons.  I  have 
looked  at  the  particularly  bad  slough  on  p.  14,  and  I  am  ashamed 
to  say  that  it  is  just  as  I  wrote  it,  and  just  as  I  read  it  in  the 
proof.  There  is  no  misprint,  no  stupid  compositor  to  hide  be- 
hind. I  did  it.  It  is  very  bad.  All  I  can  think  is  that,  in 
delivery,  it  was  made  a  bit  less  meaningless  than  it  appears  in 
print ;  and  that  when  I  read  it  in  the  proof  the  sound  of  its  deliv- 
ery was  still  in  my  ears.  Sermons  ought  not  to  be  printed,  any- 
how. What  the  sentence  needs  is  a  plentiful  interspersing  of  the 
words  "  He  is  "  in  various  places,  and  then  I  think  it  would  mean 
something,  whether  it  meant  right  or  wrong.  I  thank  you  for 
telling  me  of  it. 

On  December  4  he  went  to  Philadelphia  to  preach  the 


jet.  54]  CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT         761 

sermon  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  where  he  began  his 
ministry  over  thirty  years  before.  The  occasion  was  the 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  establishment  of  the  church.  His 
text,  "I  will  not  let  thee  go  except  thou  bless  me,"  had  long 
been  in  his  mind,  as  suggestive  of  the  mystery  of  the  spirit- 
ual life,  —  the  mystery  of  the  withholding  of  spiritual  gifts, 
when  God  is  willing  to  give  and  man  is  desirous  to  receive, 
and  yet  the  blessing  does  not  come.  "The  meaning  of  it 
must  be  that  there  is  some  inability  to  take  the  gift."  From 
the  subject  of  his  sermon  he  turned  to  the  occasion,  recalling 
to  the  congregation  how  he  had  kept  the  twentieth  anniver- 
sary with  them  in  1860.  He  dwelt  lovingly  on  the  "little 
church,"  the  "simple  service,"  the  "voluntary  choir,"  the 
"great  Sunday-school,"  the  "people's  love  for  the  church," 
all  still  fresh  in  his  memory.  He  enumerated  the  names  of 
those  with  whom  he  had  been  associated.  He  touched  on 
the  war  and  its  experiences.  Then  he  reviewed  the  years 
that  had  passed  since  he  left  them,  the  new  congregation, 
the  more  elaborate  service,  the  freer  thought,  the  new  sense 
of  God,  personal  liberty,  greater  work,  and  the  truer  mission- 
ary spirit.  "And  so,  let  the  future  come.  It  is  better  than 
the  past,  by  the  past." 

So  the  year  1890  came  to  an  end.  He  kept  his  twenty- 
first  anniversary  as  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  which  was  to 
be  also  his  last.  His  fifty -fifth  birthday  was  commemorated 
as  usual  by  some  of  his  more  intimate  friends  who  met  him 
at  luncheon.  He  came  to  Christmas  with  its  festivities,  the 
last  he  should  celebrate  in  the  dear,  familiar  way,  for  a 
change  was  impending  in  his  life,  and  "new  experiences,"  of 
which  he  often  spoke,  were  to  open  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XXin 

1859-1893 

CHARACTERISTICS.       REMINISCENCES.       ANECDOTES.      PARISH 
MINISTRY.      ESTIMATES 

In  the  following  chapter,  reminiscences  of  Phillips  Brooks 
are  brought  together  from  many  sources,  including  reports  of 
conversations  and  extracts  from  private  letters.  It  has  not 
been  thought  necessary  in  every  case  to  give  the  names  of  the 
contributors,  but  it  may  be  said  of  them  all  that  they  stood 
close  to  Phillips  Brooks,  and  of  some  that  they  had  been 
admitted  to  his  more  intimate  friendship. 

Among  his  personal  characteristics,  as  Bishop  McVickar 
has  remarked,  was  the  power  of  making  his  residence  home- 
like. This  had  been  true  of  his  rooms  in  the  Hotel  Kempton, 
and  of  the  house  he  rented  for  a  few  years,  175  Marlborough 
Street.  It  appeared  more  clearly  in  the  house  on  Clarendon 
Street,  built  as  the  rectory  of  Trinity  Church,  but  designed 
by  Richardson  primarily  to  suit  the  purposes  of  Mr.  Brooks. 
Its  personal  adaptedness  appeared  at  once  on  entering  it ;  it 
had  no  drawing-room,  but  in  its  place  on  the  first  floor  was 
the  large  study.  He  did  not  throw  open  his  house  for  recep- 
tions of  a  general  character,  whether  social  or  parochial. 
But  the  study  was  the  home  of  the  Clericus  Club,  so  ample  in 
its  accommodation  that  the  twenty-five  or  thirty  members 
who  assembled  there  never  gave  it  the  look  of  being  crowded. 
Here  also  once  a  year  he  invited  the  members  of  the  Trinity 
Club.  It  was  a  most  attractive  and  beautiful  room,  luxurious 
even  in  its  appointments,  reflecting  everywhere  his  culture 
and  refinement.  The  massive  fireplace  built  of  large  blocks 
of  unhewn  stone  was  the  central  feature,  at  once  arresting  the 
attention  as  characteristic  and  appropriate.     The  walls  were 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  763 

lined  with  books  on  all  sides  of  the  room,  halfway  to  the  ceil- 
ing, and  above  the  bookcases  every  available  space  was  de- 
voted to  pictures.  It  was  the  same  in  the  small  reception 
room  next  the  study,  where  the  books  overflowed  and  where 
pictures  abounded.  Mr.  Brooks  was  particularly  fond  of  por- 
traits :  whether  of  his  friends  or  of  the  great  men  whom  he 
admired.  Prominent  in  his  study  was  the  portrait  of  Maurice. 
On  one  of  his  visits  to  London  he  had  bought  the  copies  re- 
maining of  this  engraved  portrait  of  Maurice,  presenting  them 
to  his  friends  when  he  returned.  There  were  also  marble 
busts  of  Coleridge  and  Kingsley,  replicas  of  those  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  a  smaller  bust  of  Stanley.  Of  one  of  the 
ornaments  in  his  study  he  was  specially  proud,  —  the  image 
of  Pico  of  Mirandola  carved  in  wood.  From  India  he  had 
brought  the  image  of  Buddha.  There  was  a  cast  of  Crom- 
well's face  and  another  of  Lincoln's.  Many  interesting  and 
beautiful  objects  the  room  contained,  wherever  the  eye  might 
turn.  And  all,  books  and  pictures,  were  closely  associated 
with  the  deeper  experiences  of  his  life ;  so  that  the  room 
became  the  reflex  of  the  man. 

There  was  his  working  table,  carefully  constructed  for  him- 
self, large  and  inconveniently  high  for  any  one  else ;  the  writ- 
ing table  of  Dean  Stanley,  sent  to  Mr.  Brooks  after  Stanley's 
death,  on  which,  according  to  tradition,  had  been  written  the 
"  History  of  the  Jewish  Church."  On  another  table,  movable 
at  pleasure,  often  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  lay  the 
latest  books  and  magazines.  This  was  to  many  the  most 
attractive  feature  of  the  room.  It  was  a  source  of  wonder 
how  he  seemed  to  secure  in  advance  whatever  was  valuable  in 
recent  literature,  and  to  have  read  it  before  others  were  aware 
of  its  appearance.  The  study  never  gave  the  appearance  of  a 
working  room,  or  depressed  one  with  a  sense  of  the  strenuous- 
ness  of  its  owner,  —  but  as  rather  devoted  to  leisure  and  social 
converse.  Much  of  his  work  was  done  in  a  large  alcove  on 
the  second  story,  above  the  front  door,  where  the  walls  were 
lined  with  books  of  reference.  His  bedroom  was  over  the 
study,  corresponding  to  it  in  size,  and  opposite  was  the  guest 
room,  often  occupied.  He  slept  on  his  mother's  bed,  which 
had  been  enlarged  to  suit  his  convenience. 


764  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

Those  who  enjoyed  his  hospitality  know  how  rich  and 
abounding  it  was,  what  power  of  welcome  he  could  offer.  His 
letters  already  given  show  how  he  was  constantly  beseeching 
his  friends  for  visits,  or  the  short  notes  he  was  constantly 
writing:  "Come,  won't  you?  The  years  are  not  so  many 
as  they  were."  He  had  the  capacity  for  mental  concentra- 
tion, so  that  the  presence  of  others  or  the  talk  going  on 
around  him,  even  an  interruption  from  a  caller,  was  no  dis- 
turbance or  injury  to  his  work.  He  rather  looked  down  on 
ordinary  mortals  who  were  obliged  to  shut  themselves  up  to 
their  task.  It  was  very  impressive,  impressive  beyond  mea- 
sure, to  be  with  him  on  Sunday  and  watch  him  as  he  pre- 
pared himself  to  preach  at  the  afternoon  service.  There  was 
no  appearance  of  nervous  anxiety,  no  exigency  in  the  manner, 
but  a  calmness  and  serenity  that  went  deeper  than  words  can 
describe,  his  face  aglow  with  spiritual  beauty.  He  would 
answer  questions  with  a  gentle  refinement  and  sweetness  of 
tone,  but  beneath  the  appearance  there  was  the  intense  con- 
centration of  the  whole  man  upon  some  theme  he  was  in- 
wardly revolving,  to  whose  power  he  seemed  to  be  submitting 
himself.  He  held  a  scrap  of  paper  which  he  would  glance  at 
quickly  for  a  moment,  —  the  only  apparent  aid  in  his  pre- 
paration. 

I  recall  an  incident  [says  a  friend  of  Phillips  Brooks]  which 
happened  on  some  occasion  when  he  had  invited  a  number  of 
young  men  to  his  house.  Among  them  was  a  theological  student, 
whom  I  observed  to  be  moving  about  in  the  study  in  a  wild,  dis- 
tracted manner,  scanning  the  books,  even  getting  down  on  his 
hands  and  knees  in  order  to  read  the  titles  in  the  lower  book- 
shelves. As  Mr.  Brooks  was  not  in  the  room  at  the  time,  I  took 
the  liberty  of  asking  him  if  there  was  anything  he  was  searching 
for.  He  replied,  "I  am  trying  to  find  out  where  he  gets  it  from." 
"When  I  asked  of  him  if  he  had  found  the  source,  he  replied,  tap- 
ping his  forehead,  "He  gets  it  here." 

Among  the  relics  in  the  study  was  the  sermon  of  Dean 
Stanley  preached  at  Trinity  Church,  whose  chirography  it 
was  impossible  to  decipher ;  the  last  sermon  preached  by  Dr. 
Vinton ;  a  sermon  by  Dr.  Sears,  of  Weston,  and  another  by 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  765 

Dean  Farrar.  "When  he  was  visiting  Tennyson,  he  asked  for 
the  clay  pipe  just  finished,  and  about  to  be  thrown  into  the 
fireplace.  Tennyson  had  hesitated  a  moment,  and  saying, 
"  Do  you  want  it,  mon  ?  "  had  handed  it  to  him.  He  called 
upon  the  widow  of  Rev.  F.  D.  Maurice  in  London,  and  re- 
ceived from  her  a  manuscript  of  one  of  Maurice's  sermons. 
So  highly  did  he  value  the  gift  that  he  had  it  bound  up  with 
"  Maurice's  Life  and  Letters,"  in  the  richest  of  red  morocco. 
Red  was  his  favorite  color.  In  ordering  prayer  books  and 
hymnals  for  Trinity  Church,  he  specified  that  they  must  be 
bound  in  red.  He  liked  to  collect  autographs,  pasting  the 
autograph  letters  of  authors  in  their  books. 

He  had  the  gift  of  home-making,  and  he  had  also  the  gift 
of  housekeeping.  His  house  was  in  scrupulous  order.  He 
was  annoyed  by  the  signs  of  shiftlessness,  when  there  was  no 
necessity  for  it,  on  account  of  straitened  income.  He  ordered 
the  meals  himself  every  morning,  regulating  in  a  few  words 
the  household  affairs  for  the  day. 

He  was  careful  in  little  things,  in  his  dress  observing  great 
neatness,  not  growing  careless  with  the  years,  but  avoiding,  on 
principle,  every  badge  of  clerical  dress.  A  Scotch  clergyman, 
who  wrote  under  the  initials  A.  K.  H.  B.,  was  surprised  when  he 
met  him  travelling  abroad  in  the  garb  of  what  seemed  like  a  well- 
to-do  gamekeeper. 

Great  conscientiousness  marked  his  conduct,  not  only  in  dealing 
with  others,  but  with  himself.  "When  he  returned  to  his  house, 
after  an  absence  or  journey,  to  find  many  invitations  awaiting  him, 
he  followed  the  rule  to  accept  them  in  the  order  in  which  he  opened 
the  letters,  not  allowing  himself  to  choose  which  he  would  prefer. 
It  was  a  principle  with  him  never  to  decline  an  invitation  to 
preach  unless  prevented  by  some  previous  engagement. 

He  was  particular  in  the  matter  of  correspondence,  in  the  later 
years  always  answering  letters  so  promptly  that  one  hesitated  to 
write  to  him  for  fear  of  increasing  his  burden.  It  was  of  no 
avail  to  tell  him  that  a  letter  required  no  answer.  He  wrote  his 
letters  with  his  own  hand,  and  in  his  most  beautiful  handwriting, 
seeming  to  take  pride  in  their  appearance.  He  was  severe  in 
his  strictures  upon  illegible  or  even  ungraceful  handwriting,  think- 
ing there  was  no  necessity  for  it.  He  became  very  skilful  in 
turning  out  letters.     In  the  case  of  his  call  to  Harvard  he  wrote 


766  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

two  hundred.  But  he  repeated  himself  and  did  not  seek  to  vary 
his  responses.  He  had  a  large  number  of  formulas  for  different 
occasions,  which  made  it  easy  for  him  to  meet  them,  and  this  ex- 
plains his  boast  that  he  could  write  a  letter  in  three  minutes. 
But  this  was  not  the  case  with  letters  of  friendship. 

He  liked  to  have  things  beautiful  around  him;  he  enjoyed  a 
woman's  beautiful  dress  as  he  did  a  poem.  He  hesitated  about 
buying  for  his  study  some  convenient  arrangement  for  holding 
books,  on  the  ground  tbat  as  a  piece  of  furniture  it  was  ugly. 
His  admiration  for  precious  stones  was  noticeable,  as  shown  in  his 
sermons,  where  the  simile  of  the  jewel  often  occurs,  and  becomes 
the  occasion  of  beautiful  description.  The  ground  of  his  admira- 
tion was  the  intrinsic  beauty  of  the  precious  stone,  which  no  com- 
monness would  reduce. 

I  was  impressed  with  the  circumstance  [says  one  who  often 
stayed  at  his  house  overnight]  that  from  the  earliest  moment 
when  I  heard  him  stirring  in  the  morning,  he  was  singing  to  him- 
self, not  exactly  a  tune,  but  the  effort  at  one;  he  continued  it 
during  his  bath,  and  until  the  breakfast  hour. 

His  hours  were  regular  in  the  later  years ;  he  rose  at  seven,  and 
breakfasted  at  eight ;  then  followed  a  short  interval  of  work  be- 
fore the  crowd  of  callers  came.  He  would  have  no  office  hours, 
nor  would  he  refuse  to  see  any  one  who  called.  Lunch  was  at  one. 
In  later  years  he  might  fall  asleep  afterwards  for  a  moment  over 
his  cigar,  but  quickly  recovered.  After  lunch  came  calls  on  the 
sick,  or  meetings  of  various  kinds.  He  made  few  parochial  calls. 
Six  was  the  dinner  hour.  He  sometimes  found  it  hard  to  go  out 
in  the  evening.  Often  there  were  callers.  At  ten  o'clock  the 
house  was  shut,  and  at  eleven  he  was  in  bed. 

He  worked  hard  in  the  mornings  and  seemed  to  be  wonderfully 
free  from  moods  or  depression.  He  could  drop  his  work  and 
take  it  up  again,  without  suffering  from  any  interruption.  He  la- 
bored most  diligently  on  his  sermons,  and  on  every  address  he 
was  to  make. 

In  the  evenings,  when  he  did  not  go  out,  and  there  were  no 
callers,  he  was  most  delightful.  He  used  me  as  a  sort  of  con- 
science, taking  the  opportunity  of  any  casual  remarks  I  made  to 
deliver  his  thoughts  at  some  length.  He  would  lecture  me  on  my 
delinquencies;  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  paying  compliments  to 
any  one.  It  was  easy  to  rouse  him  to  tremendous  explosions  of 
wrath.  Once  as  he  sat  taking  a  survey  of  the  things  in  his  study, 
he  said  they  did  n't  amount  to  much,  or  were  of  no  great  value, 
but  he  should  miss  them  if  they  were  not  there. 

The  portrait  which  he  liked  most  was  the  drawing  of  the  head 


jet.  23-57]        CHARACTERISTICS  767 

of  Christ,  by  Leonardo.  William  Blake's  pictures  he  admired. 
He  greatly  liked  Kipling,  especially  the  India  stories.  Talking 
once  about  Bryce's  "American  Commonwealth,"  he  admitted  that 
the  republican  form  of  government  could  not  produce  the  highest 
result,  but  that  it  had,  on  the  other  hand,  great  advantages.  He 
had  no  exalted  opinion  of  the  Mugwump  movement  in  politics, 
and  refused  to  follow  it.  The  best  Englishmen,  he  said,  were 
better  than  the  best  in  any  other  country,  and  the  rest  were  poorer 
than  the  poorest  elsewhere.  He  was  very  loyal  to  his  friends. 
One  of  them  said  to  him  once,  "Phillips,  if  you  like  a  man  you 
swallow  him  whole." 

He  advised  me  never  to  go  to  the  theatre.  In  speaking  of  the 
histrionic  art,  he  said  that  it  demanded  for  success  weakness 
rather  than  strength  of  character.  The  occasion  which  led  him 
to  speak  on  the  subject  was  an  effort  he  was  making  to  prevent  a 
young  girl  from  going  on  the  stage. 

He  preached  a  sermon  at  Trinity  Church  one  Sunday,  in  which 
he  guardedly  intimated  that  prohibition  might  not  be  the  best 
way  of  dealing  with  intemperance.  Then  there  came  at  once  sev- 
eral letters  on  the  subject,  from  good  men  who  complained  of  hia 
attitude.  In  one  of  the  letters  the  writer  said,  "You  have  sold 
yourself  to  a  rich  congregation.  Your  Christianity  is  spurious." 
"They  won't  allow  me,"  he  said,  "the  courtesies  of  ordinary 
politeness.  It  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  Trinity  Church  which 
attitude  I  took." 

He  was  very  generous  in  his  Christmas  presents,  spending  much 
time  and  thought  over  what  he  was  to  give,  and  careful  that  no 
one  should  be  omitted  whom  he  wished  to  remember. 

The  career  of  Phillips  Brooks  always  looked  to  those  about 
him  as  one  line  of  unbroken  prosperity.  There  had  been  no 
check  to  his  success,  no  halt  in  his  triumphs.  "  Perennial 
sunniness,"  says  one  who  crossed  the  ocean  with  him,  was  his 
characteristic.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  of  himself  that  his 
life  had  been  one  of  the  happiest.  In  the  later  years,  and 
after  the  death  of  his  mother,  the  sense  of  loneliness  in- 
creased. He  began  to  realize  how  the  course  of  his  life  con- 
demned him  to  increasing  loneliness  for  the  remainder  of  his 
days.  He  yearned  and  hungered  for  human  affection.  This 
was  the  royal  avenue  to  his  soul  for  those  who  knew  how  to 
take  it.  To  Bishop  McVickar  he  admitted  that  it  had  been 
the  mistake  of  his  life  not  to  have  married.     Sometimes,  in 


768  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

the  happy  homes  of  his  younger  friends,  he  seemed  to  resent 
their  happiness,  as  though  they  taunted  him  in  his  greatness 
with  the  inability  he  had  shown  for  human  love.  More  than 
once  he  is  known  to  have  said,  "  The  trouble  with  you  mar- 
ried men  is  that  you  think  no  one  has  been  in  love  but  your- 
selves ;  I  know  what  love  is ;  I  have  been  in  love  myself." 
He  wanted  to  enter  every  great  human  experience.  Life 
grew  sad  in  the  retrospect  when  he  thought  that  he  had  been 
shut  out  from  the  greatest  of  all  experiences,  —  marriage  and 
wife  and  children.  But  he  forced  himself  to  look  upon  the 
brighter  side  of  things.  Out  of  his  loneliness  there  came  con- 
solation to  himself  and  others.  Thus  in  one  of  his  sermons 
he  says : — 

Sometimes  life  grows  so  lonely.  The  strongest  men  crave  a 
relationship  to  things  more  deep  than  ordinary  intercourse  in- 
volves. They  want  something  profound  er  to  rest  upon,  —  some- 
thing which  they  can  reverence  as  well  as  love ;  and  then  comes 
God. 

Call  ye  life  lonely  ?    Oh,  the  myriad  sounds 
Which  haunt  it,  proving  how  its  outer  bounds 
Join  with  eternity,  where  God  abounds  ! 

Then  the  sense  of  something  which  they  cannot  know,  of  some 
one  greater,  infinitely  greater  than  themselves,  surrounds  their  life, 
and  there  is  strength  and  peace,  as  when  the  ocean  takes  the  ship 
in  its  embrace,  as  when  the  rich,  warm  atmosphere  enfolds  the 
earth. 

A  statement  regarding  the  name  of  Phillips  Brooks,  that 
he  was  called  after  his  uncle  John  Phillips,  may  be  corrected 
on  his  father's  authority,  who  writes  in  his  journal :  "  Phil- 
lips was  born  in  High  Street,  December  13, 1835,  —  a  stormy, 
cold,  icy  night.  His  name  was  taken  from  the  surname  of 
his  mother's  family." 

His  love  of  clear  and  simple  humor  was  marked  and  emphatic, 
and  he  had  a  rippling  way  of  describing  ludicrous  scenes  which 
was  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  bubbling,  gurgling  brook,  laughing 
its  way  over  rock  and  stone  and  moss.1 

When  I  think  of  Phillips  Brooks,  I  recall  the  remark  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  that  "the  size  of  a  man's  understanding  may  be  justly 
1  Cf.  The  Child  and  the  Bishop,  by  Rev.  W.  W.  Newton. 


*t-  23-57]        CHARACTERISTICS  769 

measured  by  his  mirth."  Mr.  Brooks  seemed  to  me  to  have  what 
has  been  called  "the  deep  wisdom  of  fine  fooling;"  he  had 
attained  what  so  few  possess,  — the  dignity  of  joyousness. 

These  are  some  of  the  stories  told  by  those  who  knew  him 
personally :  — 

Once,  at  a  marriage  service  at  Trinity  Church,  the  gentleman 
who  was  to  give  away  the  bride  became  confused,  and  asked  what 
he  should  do.      "Anything  you  please;  nobody  will  care." 

He  had  his  version  of  the  "Jonah  "  narrative,  but  whether  it  is 
original  I  do  not  know.  When  some  one  was  wondering  at  the 
possibility  of  Jonah  being  swallowed  by  the  whale,  he  said,  "There 
was  no  difficulty.     Jonah  was  one  of  the  Minor  Prophets." 

A  poor  woman,  whose  business  was  to  scrub  the  floors  of  Trin- 
ity Church,  came  to  him  about  the  marriage  of  her  daughter,  ask- 
ing the  use  of  the  chapel.  "Why  not  take  the  church?  "  "But 
that  is  not  for  the  likes  of  me."  "Oh  yes,  it  is,  for  the  likes 
of  you,  and  the  likes  of  me,  and  the  likes  of  every  one.  The  rich 
people,  when  they  get  married,  want  to  fling  their  money  about ; 
but  that  is  not  necessary  in  order  to  be  married  at  Trinity  Church." 
And  so  the  marriage  took  place  in  Trinity  Church,  and  the  great 
organ  was  played  as  if  it  were  the  wedding  of  a  daughter  of  the 
rich. 

His  reticence  about  his  methods  of  work  is  shown  by  this  anec- 
dote. A  clerical  friend  entering  his  study  took  up  from  the  table 
the  plan  of  a  sermon  just  finished.  "Oh,  is  this  the  way  you  do 
it?"  "Put  that  paper  down,"  said  Mr.  Brooks  sternly.  "No, 
I've  got  the  chance  and  I'm  going  to  know  how  it's  done." 
"Put  that  down  or  leave  the  room." 

To  a  young  man  in  his  congregation  who,  out  of  awkwardness, 
had  got  into  the  habit  of  saying  to  him,  "Mr.  Brooks,  that  was 
a  fine  sermon  you  gave  us  this  morning, "  he  replied,  after  endur- 
ing it  as  long  as  he  could,  "Young  man,  if  you  say  that  again  to 
me,  I  '11  slap  your  face." 

"Why  is  it,"  said  a  friend  to  him,  "that  some  of  these  men 
who  call  themselves  atheists  seem  to  lead  such  moral  lives  ?  " 
"They  have  to;  they  have  no  God  to  forgive  them  if  they  don't." 

His  power  of  repartee  was  great,  but  it  would  be  difficult 
to  illustrate.  Here,  however,  is  an  instance  which  may  bear 
relating :  — 

A  clergyman  who  was  going  abroad  to  study  said  in  jest  that 
when  he  came  back  he  might  bring  a  new  religion  with  him.     A 
vol.  n 


770  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

person  who  was  present  said,  "You  may  have  some  difficulty  in 
getting  it  through  the  custom  house."  "No,"  said  Mr.  Brooks, 
"we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  a  new  religion  will  have  no 
duties  attached." 

He  once  contrasted  the  ancient  church  with  the  modern  to  the 
effect  that  then  they  tried  to  save  their  young  men  from  heing 
thrown  to  the  lions ;  now  we  are  glad  if  we  can  save  them  from 
going  to  the  dogs. 

One  element  of  his  humor  consisted  in  assuming  that  he 
was  identified  with  the  world  and  carried  it  with  him,  so  that 
all  the  world  must  be  aware  of  his  environment,  and  be 
thinking  of  the  things  which  he  was  thinking  about.  From 
this  point  of  view,  it  was  possible  to  express  surprise  and  to 
call  things  "  queer "  which  differed  from  what  he  was  ac- 
customed to.  Thus  on  revisiting  a  place  in  Europe,  where 
he  had  once  passed  some  delightful  days  with  friends,  he 
writes :  "  It  seemed  so  strange  to  find  the  people  doing  the 
same  things,  the  same  guides  and  porters  and  landlords  that 
we  left.  I  kind  of  felt  they  must  have  stopped  it  all  when 
we  came  away." 

The  use  of  the  word  "queer"  is  common  in  his  "Letters  of 
Travel."  He  is  astonished,  on  reaching  Berlin,  that  he  hears 
nothing  ahout  the  squabbles  of  a  certain  church  at  home.  When 
he  was  asked  what  the  Queen  of  England  said  to  him  in  the  in- 
terview she  granted,  he  replied  that  her  first  remark  was,  "How 
is  Toody  ?  "  [his  little  niece].  "Not  that  she  said  it  in  so  many 
words,  but  that  was  what  was  in  her  mind."  He  represents  the 
letter-carrier  approaching  him  when  he  was  abroad  and  shouting 
so  that  all  could  hear,  awakening  the  interest  of  everybody  on  the 
street,  "A  letter  from  Tood!  A  letter  from  Tood!  "  The  hu- 
mor of  his  letters  to  children  is  something  rare  and  exquisite. 
It  consisted  in  putting  himself  in  their  place  and  talking  as  if  he 
were  one  of  them,  using  their  language,  keeping  within  the  circle 
of  their  ideas.1 

Many  of  his  references  to  smoking  should  be  humorously  con- 
strued. He  was  not  a  great  smoker,  although  this  impression 
might  be  gained  from  his  allusions  to  the  subject.  The  cigar  was 
a  symbol  of  social  enjoyment ;  he  did  not  smoke  when  he  was 
alone. 

1  Cf .  The  Century,  August,  1893,  for  an  article  entitled  "  Phillips  Brooks  and 
his  Letters  to  Children." 


mt.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  771 

Phillips  Brooks  always  retained  a  vivid  impression  of  the  call 
he  made  on  Dr.  Vinton,  just  after  his  failure  in  the  Boston 
Latin  School,  and  when  in  doubt  as  to  what  should  be  his  work 
in  life.  He  and  Dr.  Vinton  would  occasionally  revert  to  the 
subject  in  later  years,  trying  to  straighten  out  each  other's  recol- 
lections. Dr.  Vinton  would  insist  that  Brooks  while  in  college 
had  avoided  him,  in  order  to  prevent  any  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject of  personal  religion.  When,  therefore,  Dr.  Vinton  got  the 
chance  he  improved  it  to  the  utmost.  Brooks  had  resented  at  the 
time  this  attempt  to  introduce  religion  as  if  it  were  an  affront, 
and,  grateful  as  he  was  for  what  Dr.  Vinton  had  done  for  him, 
could  never  recall  the  circumstance  without  the  memory  of  that 
sense  of  injury  done  to  his  personality.  He  would  say  to  Dr. 
Vinton  whenever  the  subject  came  up,  "All  the  same,  it  was 
mean  in  you  to  get  a  fellow  in  a  corner  and  throw  his  soul  at 
him."  Dr.  Vinton  was  fond  of  recalling  that  when  he  tried  to 
get  from  Brooks  some  idea  of  what  he  would  like  to  do  in  life, 
Brooks  had  replied,  "I  cannot  express  myself  very  clearly  about 
it,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  should  like  to  talk." 

Dr.  Vinton  was  not  afraid  of  his  young  prote'ge',  and  did  not 
hesitate,  if  occasion  demanded,  to  rebuke  him.  Once,  when 
Brooks  had  been  talking  with  a  lady  at  an  evening  party  in  Dr. 
Vinton's  house,  he  turned  his  chair  around  and  sat  with  his  back 
to  her.  Dr.  Vinton,  seeing  the  situation,  came  up  to  him. 
"Brooks,  get  up  a  moment."  Then,  turning  the  chair  around, 
"Now,  sit  down  again.      That  is  the  proper  position." 

Brooks  was  very  much  at  home  at  Dr.  Vinton's  house.  Some- 
times he  displayed  strange  moods.  He  had  remained  talking 
with  the  doctor  in  his  study  one  night  till  it  got  to  be  twelve 
o'clock,  when  he  displayed  an  unaccountable  aversion  to  going 
back  to  his  house.  Dr.  Vinton  at  once  proposed  that  he  should 
spend  the  night,  and  a  room  was  made  ready  for  him.  But  after 
waiting  for  some  two  hours  longer,  he  rose,  and  saying  he  would  n't 
make  a  fool  of  himself  he  went  home. 

Dr.  Vinton  did  not  understand  Brooks's  rapidity  of  utterance, 
and  once  asked  him  to  preach  slowly,  that  he  might  form  some 
judgment  of  the  effect.  His  advice,  after  hearing  this  attempt, 
was,  "You  had  better  go  it  your  own  gait,  two-forty,  or  what- 
ever it  may  be." 

I  took  Mr.  Gardner,  the  head  master  of  the  Latin  School, 
to  hear  Mr.  Brooks  preach  at  Trinity  Church.  He  made  no 
comment  on  the  sermon,  but  called  attention  to  the  ungrammati- 
cal  construction  of  a  sentence. 

While  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Philadelphia,  at  the  Church  of  the 


772  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

Holy  Trinity,  a  study  of  his  character  was  made  from  his  hand. 
These  were  some  of  the  inferences:  "The  line  of  heart  shows 
a  nature  more  susceptible  through  the  imagination  than  through 
sentiment.  .  .  .  The  line  of  life  is  steady  and  unbroken,  but 
does  not  indicate  longevity.  .  .  .  The  balance  between  the  mate- 
rial and  the  spiritual  is  remarkably  even.  The  man  is  devotional 
from  principle  rather  than  from  sentiment ;  but  is  of  a  pure  and 
truthful  nature,  honest  and  generous,  and  kindly  in  all  his  in- 
stincts." 

As  illustrating  his  preference  for  city  over  country  life,  I  am 
particularly  fond  of  this :  "  The  Bible  shows  how  the  world  pro- 
gresses.    It  begins  with  a  garden,  but  ends  with  a  holy  city." 

To  a  lady  on  shipboard  who  was  nervous  in  a  storm,  he  said 
there  was  no  better  way  of  dying  than  to  go  down  in  a  shipwreck. 

Commenting  upon  a  meeting  of  the  Church  Congress,  from 
which  he  had  just  returned,  he  said  the  speeches  were  like  towing 
ideas  out  to  sea  and  then  escaping  by  small  boats  in  the  fog. 

Talking  with  an  American  gentleman  one  clear  evening  in 
Japan,  about  some  late  discoveries  in  astronomy  and  the  enor- 
mous number  of  the  stars,  the  gentleman,  who  was  engaged  in  a 
study  of  Buddhism,  said,  "If  we  have  a  life  to  live  in  each  one 
of  the  three  hundred  and  fifty  millions  we  have  quite  a  row  to 
hoe."  "Ah,  well,"  said  Mr.  Brooks,  "if  they  are  as  beautiful 
as  this  I  am  willing." 

One  of  his  closest  and  oldest  friends,  when  explaining  to  some 
one  how  he  should  ever  have  been  admitted  to  his  friendship, 
said,  "He  allowed  us  to  crawl  up  on  him  a  little  way,  where  we 
might  better  look  up  to  see  him." 

You  felt  you  did  not  get  into  the  inner  citadel  of  his  soul  in 
any  conversation,  said  one  who  knew  him  better  than  most. 
But  you  got  there  when  you  made  no  effort,  and  were  there  some- 
times when  you  did  not  realize  it. 

It  was  because  he  felt  it  to  be  great  to  live,  and  had  such  an 
abounding  sense  of  life,  that  he  walked  the  earth  like  a  king  and 
seemed  to  fill  every  day  with  the  grandeur  and  fulness  of  eter- 
nity.    In  the  words  of  Shelley :  — 

All  familiar  things  he  touched, 
All  common  words  he  spoke,  became 
Like  forms  and  sounds  of  a  diviner  world. 

The  same  charm  which  he  exerted  in  the  pulpit  was  felt  in  the 
consciousness  of  his  presence  in  social  festivities,  or  in  the  private 
room.  No  one  else  seemed  to  be  present  when  he  was  there.  He 
filled  the  room. 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  773 

I  can  remember  (writes  an  English  bishop)  with  highest  plea- 
sure a  visit  with  which  he  honored  me  in  my  room  at  the  Divinity 
School,  Cambridge.  His  genial  presence  seemed  to  fill  it,  and 
spread  around  an  atmosphere  of  energetic  life. 

An  English  lady,  an  authoress  and  highly  cultivated,  spoke 
of  him  as  the  "  enchanter  of  souls." 

He  possessed  that  "mysterious  gift  of  charm  which,  like  magic, 
gives  to  some  men  and  women  a  wholly  unexplained  influence 
and  ascendency  over  their  kind.  We  now  and  again  come  across 
some  persons  to  whom  all  things  are  forgiven  because  they  possess 
this  extraordinary  charm.  No  one  can  say  in  what  it  consists. 
It  neither  belongs  especially  to  beauty,  nor  yet  to  talent,  nor  to 
goodness  in  life.  It  is  impossible  to  get  behind  the  secret  of 
charm." 

Mr.  Brooks  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  so-called  psycho- 
logical investigations,  whose  object  was  to  communicate  with  the 
departed.  "Why  is  it,"  he  once  said  to  me,  "that  mediums 
always  live  at  the  South  End  ?  " 

A  lady  told  him  that  her  grandfather  said  that  Bishop  Bass, 
who  was  an  ancestor,  looked  in  his  picture  like  a  judge  who  had 
just  given  a  wrong  decision.  "He  is  the  first  person,"  said  Mr. 
Brooks,  "that  found  any  expression  whatever  in  Bishop  Bass's 
face." 

Speaking  once  of  High  Churchmen,  he  remarked,  "What  they 
lack  is  a  sense  of  humor." 

He  walked  across  Green  Park  behind  three  English  bishops, 
and  was  inwardly  chuckling  over  their  gestures.  When  they 
came  to  a  fence,  they  put  their  hands  on  the  top  and  jumped 
over,  while  he  meekly  went  round,  not  despising  the  aprons  so 
much. 

He  burst  out  once  when  we  talked  of  a  person  with  rather 
affected  manners,  "  If  only  people  would  be  simple !  "  Very 
reserved  people  he  did  not  get  on  well  with,  —  he  was  too 
reserved  himself  at  once,  and  too  sensitive  to  atmosphere.  "If 
they  would  only  once  express  themselves,"  he  said.  He  loved 
people  as  people,  and  always  wanted  to  "hear  about  folks."  In 
one  of  his  sermons  he  speaks  of  what  I  know  he  felt  about  the 
city  streets.  "To  prosperous  men,  full  of  activity,  full  of  life, 
the  city  streets,  overrunning  with  human  vitality,  are  full  of  a 
sympathy,  a  sense  of  human  fellowship,  a  comforting  companion- 
ship in  all  that  mass  of  unknown  and,  as  it  were,  generic  men  and 
women,  which  no  utterance  of  specia)  friendship  or  pity  from  the 
beet  known  lips  can  bring.     The  live  and  active  man  takes  his 


774  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

trouble  out  on  the  crowded  streets,  and  finds  it  comforted  by  the 
mysterious  consolation  of  his  race.  He  takes  his  perplexity  out 
there,  and  its  darkness  grows  bright  in  the  diffused,  unconscious 
light  of  human  life." 

Did  you  ever  hear  how  his  carriage  failed  to  come  one  day  till 
it  was  too  late  to  get  him  to  a  meeting,  that  he  expressed  him- 
self with  considerable  impatience,  and  then  the  next  morning 
went  over  to  the  livery  stable  office  at  the  Brunswick  and  apolo- 
gized for  his  hastiness? 

His  impatience  was  sometimes  quite  evident  in  the  way  he 
touched  the  bell  in  the  Sunday-school  if  there  wasn't  silence  at 
the  first  ring. 

He  was  sometimes  bitterly  deceived  in  people,  but  it  was  not 
from  lack  of  discernment,  — he  was  very  discerning,  I  think,  — 
but  because,  like  that  old  friend  of  God,  "through  grace  he  re- 
garded them  not  as  they  now  were,  but  as  they  might  well  be- 
come." When  he  finally  made  up  his  mind,  he  was  capable  of 
much  righteous  indignation.  Besides,  every  one  showed  him  their 
"star  side." 

Some  one  accused  him  once  of  always  addressing  men  in  his 
sermons,  and  adding  women  and  mothers  and  girls  as  an  after- 
thought ;  and  I  remember  our  laughing  at  him  once  because,  after 
admiring  the  beauty  of  a  fancy  ball,  he  added  that  "ordinary 
parties  were  all  black. "  It  was  evident  what  part  of  the  party 
he  was  thinking  of. 

Once  here  at  tea,  where  he  was  the  only  man,  he  spoke  of  the 
strange  willingness  Englishmen  showed  to  change  their  names, 
forgetting,  as  some  one  told  him,  that  "all  the  ladies  present 
either  had  or  intended  to  change  theirs." 

Little  children  turned  to  him  like  flowers  to  sunshine,  and  I 
think  his  expression  when  he  looked  down  at  them,  or  held  a 
baby  in  his  arms,  was  the  most  tender  thing  I  ever  saw. 

And  manhood  fused  with  female  grace 

In  such  a  sort,  a  child  would  twine 

A  trustful  hand,  unmasked  in  thine, 
And  find  his  comfort  in  thy  face. 

"In  Memoriam  "  is  full  of  him,  and  how  fond  he  was  of  it! 
He  used  to  talk  to  us  a  great  deal  about  Tennyson,  and  about 
"our  set,"  as  we  called  them, — Maurice,  and  Stanley,  and 
Kingsley.  I  remember  his  saying  Coleridge  was  one  of  the  most 
interesting  and  puzzling  of  men,  but  Newman,  "after  all,  was 
only  a  second-class  mind."  He  agreed  with  Lowell's  remark 
that  Newman  made  the  great  mistake  of  thinking  that  God  was 


-*t.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  775 

the  great  "I  Was  "  rather  than  the  great  "I  Am."  He  laughed 
over  a  photograph  in  which  Maurice,  in  an  ill-fitting  coat,  hangs 
on  big  Tom  Hughes's  arm:  "No  matter  how  spiritual  a  man  is 
if  his  coat  sleeves  are  too  long !  " 

On  hearing  that  Esther  Maurice  was  accused  of  destroying 
some  of  the  Hare  family  letters,  he  said,  "If  even  more  had  been 
lost  to  the  world,  I  think  I  could  have  forgiven  her." 

He  impressed  me  as  having  the  gift  for  administration.  He 
was  to  Trinity  Church  what  a  good  housekeeper  is  in  a  family. 
He  had  his  eye  on  everything,  knew  all  that  was  going  on,  and 
seemed  to  be  everywhere.  He  was  very  positive,  but  the  people 
liked  it.  When  anybody  wanted  to  do  anything,  he  would  make 
himself  master  of  the  situation  in  five  minutes.  Any  one  could 
get  hold  of  him,  if  only  there  was  earnestness  and  he  saw  that  he 
was  really  wanted  and  needed.  But  he  dreaded  machinery  in 
a  parish,  and  was  fearful  that  organization  might  tyrannize  over 
parishes.  He  did  not  at  first  welcome  the  St.  Andrew's  Brother- 
hood. He  had  already  his  Bible  class,  and  thought  that  was 
enough.  It  was  the  same  with  the  Woman's  Auxiliary.  Some 
thought  he  was  opposed  to  "  churchly  "  ways ;  but  that  was  not 
the  reason. 

He  was  the  most  sensitive  of  men  if  he  was  not  approached  in 
the  right  way.  He  told  me  once  that  he  didn't  like  being  fifty. 
He  said  he  didn't  want  to  be  left  behind.  Some  one  had  re- 
marked to  him,  "Your  generation  was  occupied  with  slavery; 
ours  has  taken  up  sociology."  "And  so,"  he  remarked,  "the 
inference  is  that  I  am  to  be  thrown  out." 

He  never  could  be  alone  except  when  he  was  travelling. 
"Travelling  is  the  only  place  on  this  footstool  where  I  can  be  by 
myself."  "Why  don't  you  have  a  prophet's  chamber?"  He 
said  he  did  want  one  sometimes,  but  that  his  mission  was  to  see 
people.  That  was  what  he  was  here  for.  After  he  had  been  two 
weeks  by  himself,  he  hungered  for  people.  It  was  the  possibilities 
in  people  that  made  them  interesting. 

He  was  always  reading  while  he  was  travelling.  The  others 
might  be  looking  out  of  the  windows,  the  days  might  be  hot  and 
dusty,  but  he  continued  to  read.  He  threw  the  books  out  of  the 
window  when  he  had  finished  them.  You  might  trace  him  in  his 
journeys  by  the  trail  of  books. 

He  used  to  talk  to  me  of  himself  and  about  his  preaching.  I 
asked  him  once  whether  it  was  easier  to  preach  extempore  or 
written  sermons.  "In  preparation  there  should  be  no  difference. 
But  extempore  preaching  depends  on  moods."  In  his  preaching 
he  was  always  gathering  hints  from  those  who  had  talked  with 


776  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

him.  He  would  take  up  their  remarks  in  an  impersonal  way. 
It  was  always  so  in  every  sermon.  He  preached  a  sermon  in 
Huntington  Hall  on  the  "  Martyrs  beneath  the  Throne, "  and 
was  depressed  because  he  had  failed:  "I  haven't  told  the  people 
what  was  in  that  text."  In  his  morning  sermons  he  was  more 
formal,  and  at  times  seemed  to  be  disturbed  and  even  violent, 
but  as  the  day  went  on  he  came  to  himself  and  was  more  calm. 
There  was  a  tone  of  sadness  occasionally  in  the  later  sermons. 
He  told  me  once  that  he  did  not  come  of  a  long-lived  race. 

When  he  was  in  Germany  he  had  tried  going  to  the  German 
churches  in  order  to  get  religion  and  German  at  the  same  time; 
but  he  discovered  he  was  not  good  enough  to  do  without  going  to 
his  own  church  twice  every  Sunday.  He  said  this  to  a  young 
married  woman  who  told  him  she  only  went  to  church  once  on 
Sundays. 

When  people  were  in  trouble  he  would  go  and  sit  with  them 
without  saying  anything,  and  let  them  talk. 

He  once  said  to  me  that  he  felt  this  burden  of  souls. 

He  would  say  that  he  did  n't  know  anything  about  music,  but 
if  you  assumed  that  he  didn't  know  anything  about  it  he  was 
indignant.  He  wanted  to  be  thought  to  know  about  music.  He 
wanted  to  enter  into  every  experience,  and  fretted  that  he  could 
not.  He  liked  a  great  congregation  singing,  or  a  musical  band, 
—  anything  that  was  big. 

The  stricter  Unitarians,  I  know,  couldn't  go  to  hear  him. 
They  admired  him,  but  they  couldn't  take  the  truth  as  he  pre- 
sented it.  Once,  after  he  had  preached  in  the  Hollis  Street 
Church,  I  heard  these  two  reports:  "I  think  it  was  an  insult 
for  him  to  preach  that  sermon  in  this  church;  "  and  the  other, 
"That  was  a  good  Unitarian  sermon." 

His  tendency  to  stumble  in  preaching,  till  sometimes  it  seemed 
doubtful  whether  he  would  extricate  himself  from  the  snarl  of 
words  in  which  he  had  become  entangled,  was  owing  to  his  habit 
of  using  a  lead  pencil  to  make  corrections,  interlining  words  and 
phrases,  while  he  was  reading  his  sermon  over  before  preaching, 
and  especially  before  preaching  a  sermon  a  second  time.  These 
intercalated  words  and  phrases  were  written  in  a  fine  handwrit- 
ing, and  looked  somewhat  dim  compared  with  the  bold  man- 
ner of  his  manuscript.  When  he  came  to  them  in  preaching  they 
were  like  obstructions  thrown  across  the  track  of  the  rushing 
engine. 

When  he  preached  extemporaneously,  he  reminded  me  of  a 
hound  who  does  not  at  once  catch  the  scent,  but  having  caught 
it,  goes  off  with  a  rush  at  his  highest  speed. 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  777 

11  Phillips  always  hated,"  says  his  brother  John,  "  to  have 
people  remark  that  he  could  n't  help  being  good."  A  friend 
of  Mr.  Brooks  calls  attention  to  this  passage  in  Caird's 
"  Philosophy  of  Religion  "  (p.  289)  as  bearing  on  the  sub- 
ject :  — 

The  moral  life  is  not  a  passionless  life.  Benevolence,  patriot- 
ism, heroism,  philanthropy,  are  not  the  unemotional  pursuit  of 
abstractions,  virtues  which  live  in  a  vacuum.  The  noblest  moral 
natures,  the  men  who  live  most  and  do  most  for  mankind,  are 
not  strangers  to  feeling,  untouched  by  the  desires  and  passions 
of  the  common  heart.  On  the  contrary  their  very  greatness  is 
often  due,  in  part  at  least,  to  the  keenness  and  quickness  of  their 
sensibilities,  to  the  intensity  of  that  original  impulse  and  feeling 
which  is  the  natural  basis  of  their  spiritual  life. 

But  still  more  to  the  point  is  an  extract  from  a  sermon  of 
Phillips  Brooks,  "  The  Sea  of  Glass : "  — 

You  may  go  on  through  the  .crowded  streets  of  heaven,  asking 
each  saint  how  he  came  there,  and  you  will  look  in  vain  every- 
where for  a  man  morally  and  spiritually  strong,  whose  strength 
did  not  come  to  him  in  struggle.  Will  you  take  the  man  who 
never  had  a  disappointment,  who  never  knew  a  want,  whose 
friends  all  love  him,  whose  health  never  knew  a  suspicion  of  its 
perfectness,  on  whom  every  sun  shines,  and  against  whose  sails 
all  winds,  as  if  by  special  commission,  are  sent  to  blow,  who  still 
is  great  and  good  and  true  and  unselfish  and  holy,  as  happy  in 
his  inner  as  in  his  outer  life.  Was  there  no  struggle  there?  Do 
you  suppose  that  man  has  never  wrestled  with  his  own  success 
and  happiness,  that  he  has  never  prayed  and  emphasized  his 
prayer  with  labor,  "In  all  time  of  my  prosperity,  Good  Lord,  de- 
liver me !  "  "  Deliver  me !  "  That  is  the  cry  of  a  man  in  danger, 
of  a  man  with  an  antagonist.  For  years  that  man  and  his  pro- 
sperity have  been  looking  each  other  in  the  face  and  grappling  one 
another,  — and  that  is  a  supremacy  that  was  not  won  without 
a  struggle,  than  which  there  is  no  harder  on  the  earth.1 

The  moral  character  of  Phillips  Brooks  stands  out  clearly 
in  his  sermons.  Only  the  man  who  realized  in  himself  the 
ideal  he  was  perpetually  holding  up  to  his  hearers  could  have 
dared  to  enforce  it  as  he  did.  He  left  the  impression,  by 
his  appearance  and  his  speech,  of  absolute  goodness  and  of 
1  Cf .  Sermons,  vol.  iv.  p.  119 ;  see,  also,  vol.  v.  p.  155. 


778  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

inward  purity.  The  world  was  right  in  fastening  upon  his 
true  and  genuine  manhood  as  his  predominant  characteristic. 
Every  sign  by  which  we  judge  of  life  would  fail  us  if  in  this 
case  the  reality  did  not  correspond  with  the  appearance. 
One  might  illustrate  in  many  ways  how  he  seemed  to  carry 
virtue  to  its  highest  point.  He  was  like  Luther  —  a  com- 
parison which  is  constantly  recurring  —  in  his  tender  con- 
science, which  inclined  him  to  regard  the  slightest  fault  as 
a  great  sin. 

He  once  said  to  Bishop  Clark  with  great  solemnity,  "How 
wretched  I  should  be  if  I  felt  that  I  was  carrying  about  with  me 
any  secret  which  I  should  not  be  willing  that  all  the  world  should 
know. " 

By  nature  he  was  quick-tempered,  given  to  forming  hasty  and 
sometimes  severe  judgments,  and  it  was  hard  for  him  to  over- 
come prejudices.  But  if  he  had  wronged  any  one,  or  said  any- 
thing which  seemed  incompatible  with  the  relations  of  friendship, 
he  would  put  himself  to  much  trouble  to  make  amends.  "You 
will  not  think  for  a  moment,  will  you,  that  I  could  have  meant 
to  say  anything  which  I  thought  could  hurt  your  feelings,  or  that 
I  could  have  been  willing  to  do  so  ?  "  was  the  apology  he  went 
some  distance  to  make  when  he  heard  he  had  been  misunderstood. 

However  it  may  be  with  the  transmission  of  moral  qualities 
by  descent,  there  is  no  doubt  regarding  the  reappearance  of 
physical  peculiarities  after  the  lapse  of  generations.  Let  any 
one  compare  the  photographs  of  Phillips  Brooks  with  the 
portraits  of  his  ancestors  and  the  resemblance  is  apparent. 
His  great  stature  and  the  large  dark  eye  came  from  Phoebe 
Foxcroft,  his  great-grandmother.  He  most  resembled  his 
mother  in  his  features,  a  resemblance  which  became  more 
marked  in  his  later  years.  The  face  of  Phillips  Brooks  is  to 
be  classed  among  the  few  beautiful  faces  which  the  world 
cherishes.  "  He  was  the  most  beautiful  man  I  ever  saw," 
said  Justice  Harlan  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States ;  "  I  sat  opposite  to  him  once  at  dinner,  and  could  not 
take  my  eyes  off  him."  His  photographs,  after  he  allowed 
them  to  be  published,  were  to  be  found  in  every  household. 
A  commercial  traveller,  who  had  gone  into  almost  every  town 
in  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  was  struck  with  the  fact  that 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  779 

everywhere  lie  found  the  portrait  of  Phillips  Brooks,  without 
regard  to  difference  of  race  or  of  religion.  A  Roman  Catho- 
lic Sister  of  Charity  writes  on  receiving  his  photograph  :  — 

I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  for  that  lovely 
picture  of  one  of  the  loveliest  men  this  world  has  ever  known. 
...  I  like  any  one  who  likes  Phillips  Brooks.  What  a  hand- 
some face !  His  eyes  seem  to  be  looking  for  what  has  been  much 
sought,  but  looking  still,  searching  patiently,  satisfied  that  be- 
yond these  "mists  and  vapors"  and  "darkened  glasses"  all  is 
clear.  I  can  never  say  exactly  what  an  impression  Phillips 
Brooks  has  always  made  on  me.  I  feel  a  queer  sort  of  soul  kin- 
dred with  him.  I  should  like  to  have  known  and  talked  with 
him.  Though  we  would  not  have  agreed  on  all  points,  I  am  sure 
we  would  have  been  friends,  —  queer  presumption,  but  you  know 
what  I  mean.  I  'm  not  speaking  of  the  intellectual,  the  scholarly, 
the  official  Phillips  Brooks,  but  of  the  natural  man,  that  looks 
out  of  those  honest  eyes.  I  like  the  mouth,  too,  expressive  of 
the  firmness  and  fulness  and  compassion  and  truth  of  him.  The 
picture  now  hangs  alongside  of  a  beautiful  photograph  copy  of 
Hofman's  famous  Christ,  and  seems  at  home  there. 

At  times  he  appeared  to  rejoice  in  his  large  stature,  as  when  on 
coming  into  a  friend's  house  he  would  easily  place  his  hat  on 
some  tall  bookcase  or  other  object  where  any  one  else  would  have 
to  mount  on  steps  to  reach  it;  or  would  light  his  cigar  from  a 
street  lamp.  Yet  at  times,  also,  he  felt  his  height  as  an  annoy- 
ance, saying  that  it  made  him  feel  awkward  to  be  looking  down 
on  every  one  in  the  room.  But  the  worst  of  it  was  that  it  made 
others  feel  and  act  awkwardly  in  his  presence.  It  was  difficult 
for  some  people  to  know  how  to  approach  him.  Very  much  as 
when  Heine  had  prepared  himself  to  meet  Goethe  for  the  first 
time,  and  when  he  stood  before  him  only  managed  to  stammer 
something  to  the  effect  that  the  day  was  fine.  Those  who  were 
not  afraid  of  him  had  no  trouble.  He  would  talk  freely  enough 
with  his  friends,  always  within  certain  limits,  and  at  times  even 
about  himself.  He  was  more  communicative  with  women  than 
with  men,  as  indeed  he  was  dependent  on  their  friendship.  With 
young  men  he  would  be  quite  unreserved,  even  singularly  gracious 
and  kind,  saying  things  about  himself  and  his  experiences,  — 
intimate  avowals  which  surprised  those  who  had  known  him  long. 
When  he  did  talk,  it  was  often  so  freely  that  the  wonder  was  he 
did  not  get  himself  into  trouble.  He  put  restraint  on  his  humor 
and  his  power  of  satire,  but  it  was  withering  when  he  gave  it  full 


78o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

scope.  Of  some  one  whose  folly  or  perversity  provoked  him,  he 
remarked,  "I  suppose  there  must  he  something  good  in  that  man." 

When  children  were  present,  he  became  almost  oblivious  of  the 
presence  of  others.  It  was  sometimes  annoying  that  he  would 
not  talk  when  he  was  expected  to  do  so,  maintaining  his  silence 
when  people  had  been  invited  to  meet  him.  On  one  of  his  visits 
to  England,  the  American  minister,  Mr.  Lowell,  gave  him  a 
dinner,  to  which  among  others  he  had  invited  Mr.  Huxley,  under 
the  supposition  that  the  two  men  would  enjoy  meeting  each  other. 
Mr.  Huxley  talked,  and  Mr.  Brooks  was  silent,  till  Mr.  Lowell 
feared  he  had  made  a  mistake ;  but  Mr.  Brooks  afterwards  ex- 
pressed himself  as  having  found  great  pleasure  in  Huxley's  con- 
versation. Mr.  Brooks  was  not  given  to  telling  stories,  though 
no  one  liked  more  to  hear  them  from  others.  He  did  not  culti- 
vate the  art  of  conversation.  He  sometimes  appeared  to  eschew 
the  formalities  and  conventionalities  of  social  life,  and  yet  no  one 
could  be  more  formal  when  he  chose  to  be.  A  great  part  of  con- 
versation consists  in  turning  over  lightly  ideas  and  opinions. 
There  was  what  amounted  to  positive  disability  in  Brooks  to 
take  part  in  such  talk.  Ideas  aroused  him.  He  kept  them 
sacred,  to  be  used  only  for  moral  ends.  Perhaps  there  is  here 
an  explanation  in  some  part  of  that  jovial,  boisterous  manner, 
which  treated  all  things  in  humorous  fashion.  It  was  his  way 
of  staving  off  serious  conversation  and  saving  himself  from  its 
effects.  He  is  remembered  once,  in  his  capacity  as  a  visitor  of 
some  theological  institution,  sitting  through  the  hour  while  the 
lecture  was  given,  but  after  it  was  over  breaking  out  into  indig- 
nation at  the  students  that  they  could  remain  passive  in  seeming 
indifference  to  what  was  being  said. 

A  clergyman  for  whom  he  felt  a  strong  liking,  although  promi- 
nent in  what  was  known  as  the  "ritualistic  "  party,  undertook  to 
define  his  views  on  all  the  points  of  difference  which  separated 
them.  After  listening  to  him  patiently  until  the  exposition  was 
finished,  Mr.  Brooks  gave  this  response:  "It  has  all  been  very 
interesting,  and  I  have  n't  understood  a  word  of  what  you  have 
been  saying." 

The  following  reminiscence  is  by  a  member  of  the  Clericus 
Club;  its  truth  all  the  members  of  the  club  will  recog- 
nize :  — 

Through  all  those  years  what  he  was  to  us  I  cannot  find  words 
to  say.  It  would  be  to  tell  the  story  of  evenings  that  burn  in 
memory  now,  —  evenings,  so  many  of  them,  made  memorable  and 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  781 

sacred  by  the  recollection  of  his  welcome,  which  seemed  to  draw 
us  into  his  great  soul;  his  brilliant  essay  read  faithfully  when 
his  turn  came ;  his  talk  when  taking  part  in  the  discussion,  — 
talk  never  abundant,  but  even  in  its  great  brevity  illuminating 
the  subject  so  that  none  of  us  felt  that  we  could  add  a  ray  of 
light,  although  some  of  us  would  pretend  to  do  so.  He  was  so 
determined  to  get  at  the  central  truth  of  whatever  topic  might  be 
under  discussion  that  his  words  always  had  that  tone  of  genuine- 
ness, of  reality,  which  never  seemed  like  argument,  but  rather 
like  the  movement  of  his  mind  in  quick  recognition  of  some 
deeper  truth  which  we  all  had  missed,  and  which,  when  indicated 
by  him,  seemed  to  close  the  whole  question  then  and  there. 

Sometimes  when  one  or  other  of  us  would  be  tempted  to  talk 
for  the  sake  of  talk,  or  merely  to  make  a  point,  his  silence  was 
an  eloquent  admonition.  And  the  quick  glance  of  intelligent 
sympathy  which  he  always  turned  toward  any  speaker  in  whom 
he  recognized  something  of  his  own  sincerity  of  mind  was  like  an 
encouraging  cheer  from  a  hero  to  a  struggling  companion  in 
arms. 

The  intellectual  constitution  of  Phillips  Brooks  puzzled 
some  of  his  contemporaries.  The  intellect  was  so  permeated 
with  the  power  of  feeling  and  the  moral  sense  that  its  sepa- 
rate action  could  not  always  be  traced.  The  following  pas- 
sage is  from  a  sermon  by  Rev.  George  A.  Gordon,  who  after 
he  became  pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church  entered  into  the 
circle  of  Phillips  Brooks's  friends :  — 

The  intellect  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  as  striking  as  the  man 
himself.  There  was  in  it  a  platonic  subtlety,  sweep,  and  pene- 
tration, a  native  capacity  for  the  highest  speculations, —  a  capacity 
that  did  not  always  become  apparent,  because  he  passed  at  once, 
like  a  flash  of  lightning  to  the  substance  of  things,  and  because 
he  believed  that  the  forms  of  the  understanding,  into  which  the 
highest  in  man  throws  its  findings,  are  at  best  only  inadequate 
symbols.  He  could  not  endure  the  men  who  say  that  nothing 
can  be  known,  nor  could  he  abide  those  who  say  that  everything 
can  be  known.  .  .  .  There  was  in  his  mind  a  Hindu  swiftness, 
mobility,  penetrativeness,  and  mysticism.  .  .  .  Had  he  chosen, 
he  could  have  been  one  of  the  subtlest  metaphysicians,  or  one  of 
the  most  successful  analysts  of  the  human  heart,  throwing  upon 
his  screen  the  disentangled  and  accurately  classified  contents  of  the 
soul.  But  he  chose,  as  indispensable  for  his  calling,  to  let  the 
artist  in  him  prevail,  to  do  all  his  thinking  through  the  forms  of 


782  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

the  imagination,  and  to  give  truth  a  body  corresponding,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  its  own  ineffable  beauty.  Thus  it  happens  that  the 
sermons  with  the  noblest  form,  with  the  greatest  completeness, 
and  the  finest  artistic  quality  have  come  from  his  mind.1 

The  Rev.  William  R.  Huntington,  rector  of  Grace  Church, 
New  York,  bears  similar  testimony :  — 

Some  intellects  enjoy  parcelling  out  truth  into  its  component 
parts,  just  as  a  botanist  pulls  a  flower  to  pieces  that  he  may  the 
better  understand  it ;  others  would  rather  contemplate  the  object 
of  their  study  in  its  wholeness,  eager  most  of  all  to  catch  and  to 
appreciate  the  total  effect.  The  one  temper  is  that  of  the  meta- 
physician, the  other  that  of  the  poet  and  the  artist.  Each  type 
of  mind  has  its  value  in  connection  with  religion,  but  it  is  hard 
for  the  men  of  the  one  make  to  do  justice  to  the  men  of  the 
other.  The  powerful  intellect  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  not  of  the 
dogmatic  bent.  Had  it  been,  he  never  could  have  done  the  work 
he  did,  for  religion  in  Boston  had  suffered  in  times  past  from 
overmuch  dogmatizing,  and  men  were  weary  of  that  vein;  they 
thought  of  it  as  worked  out.  But  this  new  teacher,  himself  es- 
sentially a  poet,  came  to  them  holding  up  splendid  pictures  of 
truth.  "  I  do  not  care  to  argue  it  out  with  you, "  he  seemed  to 
say,   "only  look  and  see!  " 

In  the  constitution  of  every  man  of  genius  there  is  perpet- 
uated the  heart  of  childhood ;  in  the  words  of  Balzac,  "  Dans 
tout  l'homme  de  genie,  il  y  a  un  enfant."  In  one  of  his 
pocket  note-books,  Phillips  Brooks  has  pencilled  these  words : 
"The  need  of  something  childlike  in  the  fullest  character. 
A  man  wholly  manlike  is  only  half  a  man."  There  is  no  bet- 
ter authority  for  the  definition  of  genius  than  Coleridge,  and 
it  gives  new  force  to  his  words  as  we  apply  them  to  Phillips 
Brooks :  "  Every  man  of  genius  possesses  deep  feeling." 
And  again  to  quote  from  Coleridge  :  — 

I  define  genius  as  originality  in  intellectual  construction;  the 
moral  accompaniment  and  actuating  principle  of  which  consists 
perhaps  in  the  carrying  on  the  freshness  and  feelings  of  childhood 
into  the  powers  of  manhood.  ...  To  combine  the  child's  sense 
of  wonder  and  novelty  with  the  appearances  which  every  day  for 
perhaps  forty  years  has  rendered  familiar,  this  is  the  character 
and  privilege  of  genius  and  one  of  the  marks  which  distinguish 

1  Cf .  Phillips  Brooks  ;  a  Memorial  Sermon,  pp.  15,  16. 


jet.  23-57]        CHARACTERISTICS  783 

genius  from  talent.  And  so  to  represent  familiar  objects  as  to 
awaken  in  the  minds  of  others  like  freshness  of  sensation  concern- 
ing them  is  the  prime  merit  of  genius  and  its  most  unequivocal 
mode  of  manifestation.1 

In  the  light  of  these  passages,  the  meaning  of  that  deep  re- 
serve which  characterized  Phillips  Brooks  from  his  young 
manhood  becomes  more  clear.  Its  secret  was  the  child  heart 
that  survived  in  him  till  his  latest  years.  For  very  shame  he 
must  conceal  it,  so  exquisitely  simple  was  it,  so  transparent 
and  pure  when  it  should  be  known.  Upon  this  subject  there 
are  sentences  in  a  sermon  from  the  text,  "  The  secret  of  the 
Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  Him,"  which  are  worth  recall- 
ing:— 

Every  living  thing  which  is  really  worth  the  knowing  has  a 
secret  in  it  which  can  only  be  known  to  a  few. 

The  essential  lives  of  things  are  hidden  away  where  some 
special  sympathy  must  find  them. 

There  is  something  that  every  man  holds  back  from  us ;  and 
the  more  of  a  man  he  is,  the  more  conscious  we  are  of  this 
reserve. 

The  more  of  a  man  a  man  is,  the  more  secret  is  the  secret  of 
his  life,  and  the  more  plain  and  frank  are  its  external  workings. 
Anybody  may  know  what  he  does  and  where  he  goes,  yet  all  the 
while  every  one  who  looks  at  him  will  see  that  there  is  something 
behind  all  which  escapes  the  closest  observation. 

We  all  know  how  little  other  people  know  about  us.  The 
common  saying  that  other  people  know  us  better  than  we  know 
ourselves  is  only  very  superficially  true.  They  do  see  certain 
tricks  in  us  which  we  are  not  aware  of;  but  if  we  are  at  all 
thoughtful  and  self-observant  they  do  not  get  at  the  secret  of  our 
life  as  we  know  it. 

What  is  necessary  before  one  can  read  another's  secret  ?  It  is 
not  mere  curiosity,  —  we  know  how  that  shuts  up  the  nature 
which  it  tries  to  read.  It  is  not  mere  awkward  good  will ;  that, 
too,  crushes  the  flower  which  it  tries  to  examine. 

A  man  comes  with  impertinent  curiosity  and  looks  into  your 
window,  and  you  shut  it  in  his  face  indignantly.  A  friend  comes 
strolling  by  and  gazes  in  with  easy  carelessness,  not  making  much 
of  what  you  may  be  doing,  not  thinking  it  of  much  importance, 
and  before  him  you  cover  up  instinctively  the  work  which  was 
serious  to  you  and  make  believe  you  were  playing  games. 
1  Cf.  The  Friend,  vol.  ii.  pp.  104,  384. 


784  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

When  men  try  to  get  hold  of  the  secret  of  your  life,  no  friend- 
ship, no  kindliness,  can  make  you  show  it  to  them  unless  they 
evidently  really  feel  as  you  feel  that  it  is  a  serious  and  sacred 
thing.  There  must  be  something  like  reverence  or  awe  about  the 
way  that  they  approach  you.  It  is  the  way  in  which  children 
shut  themselves  up  before  their  elders,  because  they  know  their 
elders  »have  no  such  sense  as  they  have  of  the  importance  of  their 
childish  thoughts  and  feelings.1 

In  regard  to  his  intellectual  habits  and  methods,  one  thing 
is  clear,  that  Phillips  Brooks  worked  through  the  poetic  im- 
agination rather  than  by  the  process  of  dialectics,  although  he 
could  show  great  dialectic  subtlety  when  occasion  demanded. 
When  we  conjoin  this  power  of  the  poetic  imagination  and 
his  other  gifts,  the  "  unparalleled  combination  of  intensity  of 
feeling  with  comprehensiveness  of  view  and  balance  of  judg- 
ment," we  can  understand  how  he  could  quickly  penetrate  to 
the  heart  of  intellectual  systems,  how  a  hint  to  his  mind  was 
like  a  volume  to  others,  and  he  preferred  to  work  out  the  hint 
in  his  own  way.  He  left  the  impression  of  a  man  versed  in 
the  best  literature,  who  could  have  won  high  distinction  as  a 
literary  artist;  he  seemed  familiar  with  the  recondite  bear- 
ings of  philosophical  thought  or  at  home  in  the  philosophy 
of  history.  He  had  the  gift  of  speaking  to  specialists  in 
their  lines,  and  showing  them  the  relations  and  significance 
of  their  work,  and  could  bring  inspiration  to  all.  He  made 
no  mistakes  or  blunders  through  ignorance  of  the  field  where 
he  was  travelling. 

There  was  one  other  estimate  which  deserves  brief  notice  as 
connected  with  his  intellectual  habits.  It  was  often  said  that 
he  was  no  controversialist,  and  lived  above  the  atmosphere  of 
controversy.  This  indeed  was  in  general  the  impression  he 
made  in  his  preaching.  There  was  truth  in  it  to  a  certain 
degree ;  he  did  seek  to  lift  men  out  of  the  straitened  ruts  of 
theological  controversy,  but  in  order  to  that  end  he  passed 
through  it  before  he  rose  above  it.  One  reason  why  he  kept 
out  of  ecclesiastical  controversy  may  have  been  his  dread  of 
a  certain  aptness  for  it.    His  first  impulse  was  to  rush  into  it. 

1  Cf.  Sermons,  vol.  viii.  pp.  272-275. 


&t.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  785 

He  had  an  instinctive  tendency  to  oppose  any  formal  utter- 
ance which  assumed  to  be  the  whole  truth,  or  any  dogmatic 
assertion  of  opinion.  His  own  experience  had  taught  him 
that  all  such  assertions  were  one-sided,  containing  at  best 
only  one  aspect  of  the  truth.  His  mind  at  once  began  to  look 
for  other  aspects,  —  the  neglected,  obscure  intimations  of 
truth  on  the  other  side.  He  was  ready  to  challenge  any  state- 
ment in  the  interest  of  the  other  side.  He  had  a  natural 
sympathy  for  the  "  under  dog  "  in  the  fight.  All  this  points 
to  a  controversial  habit  of  mind.  But  the  process  did  not 
stop  here.  The  next  step  was  to  bring  these  opposite  or  con- 
trasted aspects  of  truth  together  and  from  them  to  deduce 
some  higher  truth.  It  was  not  until  he  had  accomplished 
this  result  in  his  own  mind  that  he  was  ready  to  speak. 
There  were  occasions,  some  of  which  have  been  mentioned, 
when  he  acted  and  spoke  under  the  controversial  impulse  of 
contradicting  some  half-true  assertion.  But  these  were  rare. 
When  he  was  prepared  to  speak,  it  was  as  one  who  stood 
above  the  conflicts  of  opinion,  taking  some  larger  ground 
where  opponents  could  meet  in  harmony.  There  are  many 
illustrations  of  this  to  be  seen  in  his  sermons.  A  sermon 
was  born  when  he  had  heard  or  read  some  statement  which 
roused  an  inward  antagonism.  Thus  he  listened  once,  and 
this  is  a  typical  case,  to  some  lecturer  who  was  pointing  out 
how  the  natural  sciences  had  hurt  the  aptitude  for  spiritual 
things.  That  might  be  true,  but  if  so  it  did  not  prove  that 
the  pursuit  of  the  natural  sciences  was  responsible  for  this 
result.  There  was  some  defect  in  the  spiritual  attitude  or  it 
could  not  have  been  hurt  by  an  inquiry  into  the  mind  of  God 
in  the  natural  order.  The  conclusion  was  that  when  the  right 
kind  of  spiritual  men  appeared  they  would  be  able  to  appro- 
priate without  injury  all  that  science  could  reveal. 

So  deep  was  the  inward  contradiction  in  the  man  that 
there  were  moments  when  it  might  seem  as  if  the  two  sides  of 
his  being  were  not  thoroughly  fused  together.  To  the  last  he 
remained  jealous  of  religion  lest  it  should  be  treacherous  to 
humanity.  He  seemed  like  a  humanist  trying  to  restore  to 
man  the  blessings  of  which  he  had  been  robbed  in  the  name 

vol.  n 


786  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

of  religion.  He  loved  with  a  passionate  devotion  this  pre- 
sent world  and  the  good  and  beautiful  things  which  human 
life  yields  with  its  seed  in  itself  after  its  kind.  But  if  he 
were  tempted  on  the  one  side  to  overvalue  them,  and  to  love 
them  for  their  own  sake,  yet  he  could  not  accept  the  alter- 
native of  renouncing  them  altogether  for  the  love  of  God. 
That  method  had  been  tried  and  had  failed.  The  deepest  in- 
stincts of  his  nature  rebelled  against  it;  he  dreaded  it  for 
himself  and  for  those  whom  he  loved.  There  was  only  one 
way  of  escape  from  the  dilemma,  and  into  that  he  entered  by 
continued  struggle,  —  to  love  life,  and  the  beautiful  gifts  of 
life,  in  God,  as  having  His  consecration,  as  revealing  His 
goodness  and  love. 

There  were  some  contradictory  aspects  of  truth  which  he 
made  no  attempt  to  reconcile,  unless  it  were  that  he  did  not 
allow  them  to  appear  in  the  same  sermon.  Thus  at  one  time 
he  sympathized  with  the  Credo  quia  impossibile  of  Tertullian 
and  at  another  time  condemned  it.  How  his  mood  about  life 
could  vary  is  shown  in  these  two  extracts  from  his  sermons :  — 

Once  or  twice  in  our  lives  we  have  stood  by  the  grave- sides  of 
young  men  which  were  too  solemn  for  regret.  We  complain  that 
life  is  short.  It  is  not  time  you  want,  but  fire.  The  cloud  lies 
on  the  mountain  top  all  day,  and  leaves  it  at  last  just  as  it  found 
it  in  the  morning,  only  wet  and  cold.  The  lightning  touches  the 
mountain  for  an  instant,  and  the  very  rocks  are  melted,  and  the 
whole  shape  of  the  great  mass  is  changed.  Who  would  not  cry 
out  to  God :  "  Oh,  make  my  life  how  short  I  care  not,  so  that 
it  can  have  the  fire  in  it  for  an  hour.  If  only  it  can  have  inten- 
sity, let  it  but  touch  the  tumult  of  this  world  for  an  instant. 
Then  let  it  go  and  leave  its  power  behind."  1 

But  now  on  the  other  side :  — 

To  lose  any  of  the  legitimate  experiences  of  a  full  human 
career  is  a  loss  for  which  one  will  be  poorer  forever.  This  is  the 
reason  of  the  sadness,  which  no  faith  in  immortality  can  dissipate, 
belonging  to  the  death  of  those  who  die  in  youth,  the  sense  of 
untimeliness  which  we  cannot  reason  down.3 

It  would  be  unjust  to  Phillips  Brooks  to  class  him  either 
as  a  radical  or  a  conservative.     He  clung  to  old  ways,  held 
1  Cf.  The  Spiritual  Man,  etc.,  p.  85.  a  Cf.  Sermons,  toI.  vi.  p.  333. 


*t.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  787 

the  past  in  profound  reverence,  and  at  the  same  time  had  a 
strange  liking  for  new  things  and  new  ways,  till  it  was  almost 
a  presumption  in  favor  of  any  movement  that  it  had  the 
charm  of  novelty.  This  was  his  feeling  about  many  of  the 
movements  of  his  time.  Thus  he  sympathized  with  the  cause 
of  Woman  Suffrage,  though  he  never  publicly  advocated  it ; 
he  accepted  the  principle  of  "  cremation,"  giving  the  use  of 
his  name  to  further  its  adoption.  He  thought  there  was  some 
truth  in  the  modern  theory  of  the  power  of  mind  in  healing 
disease,  and  welcomed  it  as  a  protest  against  the  current  long- 
established  methods  of  medical  practice.  But  he  condemned 
as  irrational  the  so-called  metaphysical  or  scientific  principles 
by  which  it  was  explained  or  vindicated.  He  did  not  commit 
himself  to  any  methods  of  sociological  reform,  dreading  in 
this  line  of  work,  as  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  the  danger  of 
relying  on  machinery,  of  treating  men  as  a  class,  rather  than 
as  individuals.  Thus  he  speaks  of  the  subject  in  his  charac- 
teristic way  in  a  private  letter :  — 

How  good  it  is  when  the  gospel  and  the  ministers  get  at  work 
at  these  questions  which  the  business  folks  are  muddling  so,  and 
let  them  see  how  simple  they  really  are.  They  are  really  simple 
if  only  the  business  folks  would  go  at  them  gospel-fashion.  I 
delight  in  your  picture  of  the  workmen's  heads  out  one  window, 
and  the  capitalists'  heads  out  the  other,  and  the  big  jaw  going 
on  between  them.  It  will  get  settled  somehow,  and  things  will 
be  juster  than  they  are  to-day. 

He  was  conscious  of  the  bitter  mood  engendered  by  the 
long  strife. 

He  was  sensitive  as  to  what  people  might  be  thinking  of  him. 
As  he  stepped  upon  a  street  car  he  wondered  what  the  conduc- 
tor's feeling  toward  him  might  be;  or  on  shipboard  he  was  uneasy 
as  he  thought  of  the  steerage  passengers  in  their  discomfort,  and 
of  the  social  usage  which  enforced  such  a  distinction. 

I  was  sitting  with  Mr.  Brooks  in  the  study  of  his  house  on 
Clarendon  Street.  In  the  course  of  some  remarks  upon  the  work 
of  the  Christian  ministry  he  said,  "I  suppose  that  there  are  men 
passing  this  house  every  day,  wearing  overalls  and  carrying  their 
dinner  in  tin  pails,  who,  if  they  happen  to  know  where  I  live, 
look  up  at  this  house  and  say  with  a  sneer,  '  There  is  that  grand 


788  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

house,  and  a  clergyman  lives  there,  — a  teacher  of  the  religion 
of  Jesus  Christ.  A  fine  sort  of  Christian  teacher  he  must  he  to 
live  in  a  grand  house  like  that.'  But  I  helieve  that  I  have  a 
right  to  live  here,  with  this  heauty  and  luxury  about  me.  I  enjoy 
it  all,  and  I  do  my  work  as  a  Christian  minister  better  for  having 
these  surroundings.  A  man  is  no  better  Christian  for  wearing 
overalls  than  for  working  in  a  beautifully  furnished  study.  He 
can  be  one  in  either  situation,  if  only  he  have  the  6pirit  of  Christ. " 

Yet  Phillips  Brooks  had  won  the  affection  and  the  con- 
fidence of  the  poor  in  an  extraordinary  degree.  They  re- 
cognized his  genuineness  and  sincerity,  even  those  who  had 
become  disaffected  toward  church  and  religion.  His  method 
was  simple,  —  he  let  his  heart  go  out  toward  them,  not  merely 
as  to  a  class,  but  to  individuals,  and  on  the  ground  of  their 
divine  humanity.  He  put  himself  to  much  trouble  to  wait 
upon  any  one  who  called  for  his  aid.  He  interested  himself 
in  special  cases,  —  and  there  were  many  of  them,  —  not  only 
making  contributions  of  money,  but  going  in  person.  And 
wherever  he  went  his  personality  carried  power,  courage,  and 
hopefulness.  He  watched  by  their  bedside  when  sick  and 
dying. 

How  wonderful,  how  glorious  it  was,  the  way  he  talked  to  that 
audience  at  Faneuil  Hall!  These  were  some  of  his  sentences  as 
he  closed  his  sermon:  "Try  to  go  to  church.  Not  that  there 
is  any  charm  in  going  to  church,  but  it  is  the  place  where  every 
one  is  praying  and  worshipping  God,  where  we  all  feel  how  great 
it  is  to  be  good.  I  invite  you  to  Trinity  Church.  I  know  that 
every  church  will  welcome  you.  The  days  are  past  when  the 
church  did  not  welcome  every  one.  Come  to  the  evening  services 
at  Trinity,  which  begin  in  March!  Come  to  the  morning  ser- 
vices now!  Come!  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  you  after  these  four 
meetings,  and  as  if  you  knew  me. 

"You  must  remember  what  I  have  said  to  you.  Do  not  only 
try  to  be  good  yourselves,  but  try  to  help  others.  You  all  have 
a  chance,  I  am  sure,  to  say  a  kind  word  or  do  a  kind  deed. 
Try!  Try  to  live  nobler,  higher  lives;  do  not  yield  to  your 
temptations,  but  struggle  againet  them,  and  remember  that  the 
strength  of  Almighty  God  is  behind  you.  Trust  in  Him,  pray 
to  Him,  and  He  will  uphold  you."  Then  he  made  an  extempore 
prayer,  and  closed  by  saying,  "Now  let  us  all  stand  up  and  sing 
together  '  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea. '  " 


*t.  23-57]        CHARACTERISTICS  789 

As  a  parish  minister  Phillips  Brooks  retained  the  ideal  of 
his  youth,  when  the  organization  of  a  parish  was  simple,  when 
the  duty  of  a  pastor  was  to  preach,  to  administer  the  sacra- 
ments, to  visit  the  sick  and  the  dying,  and  to  comfort  those 
in  affliction.  To  the  end  of  his  rectorship  of  Trinity  Church 
he  was  inwardly  critical  of  what  seemed  to  him  the  feverish 
activity  which  found  vent  in  a  complex  organization  of  varied 
interests,  societies,  and  guilds  for  every  conceivable  philan- 
thropic or  charitable  work.  Yet  under  his  ministry,  Trinity 
Church  was  changing  as  the  age  was  changing,  and  he  recog- 
nized the  obligations  it  imposed  on  him.  When  he  assumed 
the  rectorship,  he  found  what  would  be  called  a  church  rela- 
tively small  in  the  number  of  its  communicants,  estimated  at 
400,  with  a  depleted  congregation,  worshipping  in  a  building 
left  stranded  in  the  business  part  of  the  city.  After  a  minis- 
try of  twenty-two  years,  when  he  resigned  from  its  rectorship 
he  left  it  with  the  grandest  church  edifice  in  New  England, 
if  not  in  the  country ;  its  communicants  increased  more  than 
fourfold,  and  its  activities  multiplied  till  it  had  become  the 
strongest  church  in  Boston  in  its  contributions  to  charitable 
work  of  every  kind ;  with  its  host  of  workers  under  his  super- 
vision, zealous  in  promoting  every  agency  for  good  which 
ingenuity,  combined  with  Christian  sympathy,  could  devise. 
He  stood  at  the  head  of  an  institutional  church,  whose  suc- 
cessful administration  alone  commanded  respect  and  admira- 
tion. So  natural  and  inevitable  had  been  the  growth  that 
when  people  paused  to  consider  the  work  he  was  carrying  on 
through  these  diverse  agencies,  they  began  to  wonder  at  the 
administrative  power  which  seemed  to  match  the  greatness 
revealed  in  the  pidpit. 

But  whatever  may  have  been  Phillips  Brooks's  natural 
capacity  for  the  work  of  administration,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  took  but  little  interest  in  the  details  of  what  is  called 
working  a  parish.  He  kept  his  eye  on  every  agency  at  work, 
he  scrutinized  plans  projected,  he  knew  what  each  helper  or 
each  society  was  doing,  or  was  capable  of  doing ;  where  it 
was  strong  or  where  it  was  weak ;  he  encouraged  and  stim- 
ulated every  enterprise  of  which  he  approved.     His  mind 


790  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

was  so  comprehensive  that  he  easily  carried  the  work  that 
was  done  under  him  in  whole  or  in  part;  but  there  his 
apparent  interest  and  activity  ended.  It  was  not  he  that  pro- 
jected the  plans  or  sought  to  enlarge  the  range  of  activities 
by  schemes  of  his  own.  That  was  done  for  him  by  others, 
who  saw  the  opportunities  and  brought  them  to  him  for 
approval.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  own  latent  capacity 
for  creating  openings  or  originating  methods,  he  did  not 
avail  himself  of  it;  he  preferred  to  stimulate  others,  and 
profit  by  their  creative  enterprise.  If  we  may  call  him  suc- 
cessful as  an  administrator,  it  was  because  he  knew  how  to 
concentrate  his  strength  on  what  was  essential,  and  disem- 
barrass himself  of  the  detail  and  labor  necessary  for  its 
accomplishment.  He  was  accustomed  to  allude  to  these 
things  in  a  humorous  way.  Thus  on  one  occasion,  at  the 
beginning  of  Lent,  he  issued  a  pastoral  letter,  calling  upon 
the  men  in  the  congregation  to  make  more  use  of  the  fre- 
quent services.  Sending  a  copy  to  his  brother  Arthur  he 
wrote  on  the  back  of  it,  "  I  want  you  to  see  what  a  tremen- 
dous pastor  I  am  getting  to  be.  I  hope  to  be  famous  yet  for 
*  executive  ability  '  and  '  administrative  talent.'  " 

It  is  an  instance  of  his  lack  of  interest  in  the  detail  of 
administration  that  he  kept  no  list  of  the  communicants  of 
Trinity  Church,  and  had  no  conception  of  their  actual  num- 
ber. Nor  had  he  any  basis  for  computation,  except  to  add 
each  year  the  number  of  those  confirmed  to  the  original 
number  reported  when  he  came  to  Trinity.  From  1869  to 
1870  his  report  reads  "about  450;"  in  1871  "about  480;" 
for  the  next  four  years  successively  he  added  50  for  each 
year,  and  in  1875  and  1876  he  reports  "  about  600 ; "  in 
1878  "about  700;"  in  1879  "about  750;"  in  1880  "about 
900."  He  seems  to  have  been  afraid  of  overstating  the 
number,  preferring  to  err  in  the  opposite  direction.  But  in 
1880  he  was  seriously  remonstrated  with  for  placing  the 
number  of  communicants  far  below  what  it  was  evident  they 
were  by  actual  count  at  the  monthly  communions.  He  then 
seems  to  have  determined  upon  forming  a  complete  list,  and 
in  1881  issued  a  printed  card,  which  was  distributed  widely, 


*t.  23-57]      TRINITY   CHURCH  791 

calling  on  each  communicant  for  signature  of  name  with  the 
time  and  place  of  confirmation.  While  the  effort  was  not 
successful  in  obtaining  the  desired  information,  it  led  him 
to  report  the  number  of  communicants  in  1881  as  "  about 
1000."  At  this  figure  he  allowed  it  to  remain  for  the  next 
seven  years,  making  no  further  effort  to  be  exact.  But  what 
mental  process  allowed  him  to  keep  the  figures  stationary  for 
seven  years,  when  each  year  there  were  large  accessions  by 
confirmation,  does  not  appear,  unless  it  were  an  unwillingness 
to  seem  to  be  magnifying  the  growth  of  his  work.  Once 
more,  after  another  remonstrance,  he  concluded  to  report  an 
increase,  and  in  the  year  1888  he  gave  the  number  as  "  about 
1200."  His  report  in  1889  was  "  about  1250,"  and  in  his 
annual  statements  for  the  following  years  beyond  that  figure 
he  did  not  go.  The  probability  is  that  the  actual  number  of 
those  who  regularly  communed  at  Trinity  Church  was  larger 
by  several  hundreds. 

The  wisdom  and  the  power  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  the  ad- 
ministrator of  a  large  parish  lay  in  giving  freedom  to  his 
assistant  ministers  and  other  helpers  to  seek  and  find  opportu- 
nities for  beneficent  work.  And  for  the  rest  he  so  stimu- 
lated the  energies  of  his  people  that  we  do  not  wonder  at  the 
variety  of  the  activities  and  the  vitality  which  pervaded  the 
parish.  This  would  have  been  his  method  of  promoting  the 
growth  of  any  of  the  higher  institutions  of  learning  to  which 
he  was  called,  had  he  accepted  such  a  position.  He  would 
have  made  an  ideal  provost  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
or  president  of  Columbia  University,  to  both  of  which  posts 
he  was  invited,  for  he  had  the  power  to  infuse  life  and  enthu- 
siasm and  to  inspire  confidence.  Because  he  was  abounding 
in  vitality  he  could  not  but  communicate  his  gift,  till  the 
things  about  him  grew  and  thrived.  It  might  not  be  called 
administrative  ability  or  executive  talent,  but  it  produced  the 
same  if  not  a  higher  result. 

The  list  is  a  long  one  of  the  societies  and  organizations  in 
Trinity  Church  which  alike  looked  to  the  rector  for  sup- 
port and  inspiration.  In  the  Industrial  Society,  the  Em- 
ployment Society,  the  Visiting  Society,  work  was  done  for  the 


792  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

poor.  The  Indian  Mission  Association  had  for  its  object  to 
aid  those  who  sought  to  protect  the  American  Indians  in  the 
far  West  from  political  and  mercenary  adventurers,  and  to 
promote  their  spiritual  interests.  There  was  a  woman's 
Bible  class  largely  attended  and  under  most  efficient  instruc- 
tion which  combined  instruction  with  missionary  zeal.  The 
Zenana  Mission  supported  a  missionary  at  Calcutta,  and  the 
Zenana  Band  was  allied  with  it  in  promoting  the  better  con- 
dition of  women  in  India.  The  Trinity  Club  was  a  social 
organization  of  the  young  men  of  the  parish,  but  efforts  were 
expected  from  it,  and  were  always  in  process  for  the  exten- 
sion of  the  religious  influence  in  the  city  of  Boston.  There 
was  a  Home  for  Aged  Women  primarily  for  the  needs  of 
Trinity  Church,  but  open,  when  there  was  room,  for  those 
outside  of  its  fold.  Trinity  House,  situated  at  13  Burroughs 
Place,  was  fruitful  in  beneficent  charities  with  its  Laundry 
and  its  Day  Nursery.  In  the  Girls'  Industrial  Classes,  for 
a  long  time  associated  with  Trinity  House,  instruction  was 
given  in  cooking,  laundry  work,  housekeeping  and  domestic 
service,  sewing,  mending,  and  dressmaking.  All  of  these 
agencies  needed  money  for  their  establishment  and  success- 
ful prosecution  of  their  work.  During  the  years  that  Mr. 
Brooks  was  the  rector  of  Trinity,  the  annual  contributions 
for  charitable  purposes  averaged  some  $50,000  a  year. 

To  this  list  must  be  added  the  organized  charities  con- 
nected with  St.  Andrew's,  the  mission  church  of  Trinity,  un- 
der the  charge  of  Rev.  Reuben  Kidner.  Here,  in  addition  to 
societies  of  a  similar  nature  to  those  above  mentioned,  there 
was  a  mission  for  deaf  mutes;  in  the  Trinity  Dispensary 
four  physicians  gave  their  services  gratuitously,  —  advice 
and  treatment  for  the  sick,  with  a  mere  nominal  charge  for 
medicine  and  hygienic  instruction  in  order  to  the  best  health 
standards  for  workers  and  breadwinners.  Connected  with  the 
dispensary  was  the  Vincent  Memorial  Hospital.  Regarding 
these  various  organizations  Mr.  Kidner  writes  :  — 

Brooks  encouraged  and  cheered  us,  as  was  his  wont,  but  did  not 
take  the  initiative.  So  far  as  my  experience  goes,  he  never  initi- 
ated or  suggested  anything.     He  never  came  to  any  of  us  and 


jet.  23-57]      TRINITY  CHURCH  793 

said,  "I  should  like  you  to  try  this  or  that."  Not  one  single 
method  or  plan  of  parish  work  was  original  with  him.  When- 
ever we  wanted  to  do  anything,  if  it  commended  itself  to  him, 
he  was  enthusiastic,  and  gave  us  the  warmest  support.  But  he 
would  not  give  his  sanction  to  any  scheme  based  on  the  recogni- 
tion of  divisions  or  classes  among  men. 

After  Trinity  Church  had  been  completed,  an  important 
work  still  remained  to  be  done  in  its  interior  decoration,  and 
in  this  Phillips  Brooks  had  his  share.  Many  of  his  letters 
written  while  abroad  are  occupied  with  commissions  he  had 
undertaken  for  the  perfecting  of  the  decorations  with  its  am- 
ple opportunities  for  memorial  windows.  During  the  years 
that  he  remained  as  rector,  its  interior  continued  to  grow 
richer  as  window  after  window  was  added,  till  it  became,  in 
the  estimate  of  competent  judges,  "  the  most  important  build- 
ing in  the  history  of  art  in  this  country,  or  anywhere  in  the 
present  century."  *  He  loved  the  church,  and  was  proud  of  it 
with  all  his  heart ;  he  gave  his  attention  to  every  detail  of  its 
enrichment.  It  was  he  who  caused  the  ivy  to  be  planted 
which  now  covers  a  large  part  of  its  walls.  While  in  India  he 
thought  of  its  care,  and  wrote  requesting  that  its  roots  should 
be  protected  during  the  winter,  —  a  task  which  he  had  al- 
ways superintended.  Among  other  things  which  to  his  mind 
added  distinction  and  historical  interest  to  the  church  was 
the  bust  of  Dean  Stanley.  Its  donor  was  Lady  Frances 
Baillie,  who  took  a  special  interest  in  Trinity  Church  because 
in  years  gone  by  the  funeral  services  had  been  read  there 
over  the  body  of  her  brother,  Sir  Frederick  Bruce,  then  the 
British  minister  at  Washington.  To  Mr.  Brooks  she  wrote, 
making  the  inquiry  whether  the  gift  would  be  acceptable, 
only  requesting  that  the  name  of  the  giver  should  be  with- 
held. The  Proprietors  of  Trinity  Church  having  at  Mr. 
Brooks's  suggestion  accepted  the  gift,  he  wrote,  on  the  ar- 
rival of  the  bust,  to  the  donor  :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  20, 1883. 

Dear  Lady  Frances,  —  The  bust  has  come,  and  this  after- 
noon it  has  been  carefully  unpacked  and  now  stands  in  my  study, 

1  Among  the  many  articles  written  describing  the  interior  decoration  of  Trin- 
ity Church,  cf .  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  May,  1879. 


794  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

where  it  will  await  its  formal  acceptance  and  the  preparation  of 
a  fit  place  for  it  in  the  church,  of  which  it  will  be  always  one 
of  the  very  chief  est  treasures.  I  need  not  try  to  tell  you  with 
what  true  reverence  I  took  it  in  my  hands  and  set  it  up.  It  was 
almost  as  if  he  had  really  come  to  us  himself.  His  inspiration 
and,  I  hope,  something  of  his  spirit  have  been  with  us  ever  since 
his  never-forgotten  visit.  Indeed,  they  had  been  with  us  long 
before  he  visited  us.  Now,  in  the  setting  up  of  his  almost  speak- 
ing face,  where  ministers  and  people  will  always  see  it,  it  seems 
as  if  the  seal  was  set  upon  our  possession  of  him,  so  that  he  can 
never  be  taken  from  us.  I  love  to  think  how  the  preachers  who 
will  come  after  me  will  treasure  this  memorial  of  him,  and  how 
it  may  have  some  power  to  purify  and  enlarge  and  enlighten  the 
teaching  of  the  church  which  I  love  very  dearly,  long  after  I  am 
gone. 

I  must  not  attempt  to  thank  you,  my  dear  friend,  but  I  know 
you  will  be  glad  to  think  how  much  joy  and  help  your  noble  gift 
will  be  the  means  of  bringing  to  this  far-away  church,  and  minis- 
ter, and  congregation.  It  shall  be  very  sacredly  honored  and 
preserved. 

By  and  by  I  will  tell  you  of  the  final  installation  of  the  bust 
in  its  permanent  place.  But  I  could  not  help  sending  you  this 
little  word  of  gratitude  at  once. 

I  hope  that  you  are  very  well  and  very  happy,  as  you  ought  to 
be.      Pray  let  me  count  myself, 

Ever  sincerely  your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  inscription  beneath  the  bust  was  written  by  the  late 
Mr.  Robert  C.  Winthrop. 

There  was  a  memorial  window  to  Frederick  Brooks,  erected 
by  the  generous  kindness  of  Mr.  C.  J.  Morrill,  between  whom 
and  Phillips  Brooks  was  a  beautiful  friendship,  dating  from 
the  early  years  of  his  ministry. 

Another  historical  feature  added  to  Trinity  Church  in  1890 
were  the  stones  from  St.  Botolph's  Church  in  the  English 
Boston,  which  now  form  an  arched  opening  in  the  side  of  the 
cloister  leading  from  the  eastern  entrance  of  the  church  to 
Clarendon  Street.  It  had  been  the  original  intention  to  send 
the  stones  from  the  central  doorway  in  the  great  tower.  Had 
this  plan  been  carried  out,  it  would  have  perpetuated  an  in- 
teresting memorial  of  Rev.  John  Cotton,  for  beneath  those 
stones  he  had   gone   in   and   out  twenty  years  while  vicar 


jet.  23-57]       PARISH   MINISTRY  795 

of   St.  Botolph's,  and  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. 

At  this  point  we  pause  for  a  moment  to  call  attention  to  an 
important  feature  of  the  parish  ministry.  Enough  has  already 
been  said  regarding  the  primary  conviction  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
which  underlay  his  life  and  preaching,  that  all  men  were  by 
nature  and  by  grace  the  children  of  God.  He  held  that  this 
truth  found  emphatic  expression  in  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  that  it  was  not  hidden  in  a  corner,  but  assigned  a 
place  of  honor  and  prominence  in  the  Church  Catechism,  to 
be  taught  to  every  child.  It  constituted  the  fundamental  dif- 
ference between  the  Anglican  and  the  Roman  communions,  — 
a  truth  from  which  the  Puritan  churches  of  the  seventeenth 
century  had  departed,  —  the  sonship  of  all  humanity  and  the 
universal  redemption.  Phillips  Brooks  gave  to  this  conviction 
such  prominence,  such  force,  as  to  make  it  seem  like  some  new 
discovery.  To  him  also  it  seemed  an  inevitable  inference  from 
the  truth  of  the  Incarnation.  That  doctrine  lost  its  full  mean- 
ing and  became  something  accidental  or  exceptional  instead 
of  essential,  unless  humanity  as  a  whole  were  conceived  as  the 
body  of  Christ. 

But  now  we  turn  to  another  aspect  of  the  subject.  It  was 
the  strict  and  uniform  usage  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  require 
from  those  coming  to  confirmation  unmistakable  evidence 
that  they  were  actuated  by  the  motive  of  conscious  love 
toward  God  and  the  purpose  to  devote  themselves  to  His 
service.  So  insistent  was  he  upon  this  requirement  that  to 
some,  even  in  his  own  congregation,  it  looked  as  if  he  were 
adopting  the  Puritan  stringency,  departing  from  the  Anglican 
position  which  called  only  for  the  ability  to  "say  the  Creed, 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  to  an- 
swer to  such  other  questions  as  in  the  Short  Catechism  are 
contained."  Thus  he  received  a  remonstrance  from  one  of 
his  parishioners,  the  late  Mr.  John  C.  Ropes,  who,  in  addition 
to  his  ability  as  a  military  critic,  was  also  versed  in  theology. 
In  a  letter  dated  March  6,  1899,  shortly  before  his  death, 
Mr.  Ropes  in  reverting  to  the  subject  wrote  :  — 


796  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

The  attitude  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  calculated  to  deter  all  who 
had  not  gone  through  a  real  "religious  experience"  in  the  Evan- 
gelical sense  of  that  expression,  no  matter  how  innocent,  how 
manly,  womanly,  sound,  affectionate,  true-hearted  boys  and  girls 
they  might  be,  no  matter  how  unreservedly  they  were  willing  to 
make  their  vows  "to  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works,"  etc. 
This  it  was  which  awakened  my  opposition,  for  I  had  been 
brought  up  in  an  Orthodox  [Congregational]  church,  and  had  been 
(in  my  junior  year)  received  into  one  on  "Profession  of  Faith." 
I  revere  the  Orthodox  Congregational  churches,  but  I  must  say 
that  they  lose  a  great  many  young  men  and  women  who  are  per- 
fectly willing  and  serious  to  come  into  full  communion  with  the 
church  of  Christ,  but  who  cannot  meet  these  requirements. 

On  this  point  Mr.  Brooks  never  changed  his  attitude.  He 
called  for  no  conventional  tests  as  evidence  of  such  a  love, 
but  in  conversation  with  the  candidate  he  satisfied  himself  of 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life.  In  these  personal  interviews  he 
was  gentle  and  tender,  yet  searching,  appreciative  always  of 
the  faintest  signs  of  the  awakening  spiritual  life.  He  never 
forgot  that  it  was  God's  own  child  with  whom  he  was  convers- 
ing, or  whom  he  was  examining,  in  order  to  know  if  the  rela- 
tionship to  the  Eternal  Father  were  consciously  felt  and 
acknowledged.  He  preserved  in  a  separate  package  the  let- 
ters written  to  him  by  young  boys  and  girls,  where  with  im- 
perfect, inadequate  language  was  expressed  the  desire  to  live 
for  God;  he  kept  them  as  if  he  attached  some  special  value 
or  saw  some  special  beauty  in  the  way  these  souls  were  open- 
ing toward  the  great  reality.  But  that  much  he  insisted  on, 
—  some  evidence  of  a  beginning  of  a  conscious  sense  of  love 
toward  God.  Whether  this  were  the  attitude  of  the  Anglican 
Church  may  perhaps  be  an  open  question.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  he  had  been  brought  up  from  his  childhood 
on  the  Church  Catechism,  as  well  as  learned  religion  from 
his  mother's  teaching.  And  in  the  Catechism  it  is  said  that 
two  things  are  to  be  learned  from  the  Ten  Commandments, 
"  My  duty  toward  God  and  my  duty  toward  my  neighbor." 
And  further  in  the  reply  to  the  question,  "  What  is  thy  duty 
toward  God?"  the  child  is  taught  to  answer:  "  My  duty  toward 
God  is  to  believe  in  Him,  to  fear  Him,  and  to  love  Him  with 


^et.  23-57]        PARISH  MINISTRY  797 

all  my  heart,  with  all  my  mind,  with  all  my  soul,  and  with 
all  my  strength."  Words  like  these  to  a  sensitive  child  with 
the  aptitude  for  spiritual  things,  such  as  Phillips  Brooks 
possessed,  are  apt  to  bury  themselves  deep  in  the  heart,  con- 
stituting a  deterrent  from  lightly  assuming  the  vows  of  con- 
firmation. This  must  be  taken  into  consideration  in  deter- 
mining the  attitude  of  the  Anglican  Church. 

To  the  communion  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  Phillips  Brooks 
attached  the  highest  importance,  seeking  to  make  it  impres- 
sive and  memorable  to  every  recipient.  It  was  in  order  that 
its  full  significance  as  the  rite  of  Christian  fellowship  might 
not  be  obscured,  that  he  steadfastly  refused  to  multiply  com- 
munion services  and  kept  the  feast  only  on  one  Sunday  in  the 
month,  and  then  at  the  mid-day  service.  When,  however, 
the  number  of  communicants  became  inconveniently  large,  he 
made  one  concession,  and  on  the  first  Sunday  in  the  month 
allowed  an  earlier  communion.  A  communion  service  at 
Trinity  Church  became  one  of  the  most  impressive  of  reli- 
gious spectacles  anywhere  to  be  witnessed,  when  the  congrega- 
tion seemed  to  rise  as  a  whole  and  press  forward  to  surround 
the  Lord's  Table.  To  the  influence  of  this  service,  a  young 
Japanese  student  confessed  that  he  owed  his  conversion  to 
Christianity. 

Another  feature  of  the  parish  ministry  of  Phillips  Brooks 
was  his  desire,  to  use  his  own  words,  that  "  Trinity  Church 
should  be  the  most  hospitable  church  in  Boston."  The  effort 
no  doubt  had  its  inconveniences,  but  the  parishioners  sup- 
ported the  rector  and  allowed  his  wish  to  prevail.  This  was 
an  expansion  of  the  parish  ministry,  for  the  number  of  those 
who  sought  access  to  Trinity  was  large  and  always  increas- 
ing, till  the  pastor  seemed  to  stand  in  pastoral  relations  to 
all  Boston  and  its  suburbs.  This  open-hearted  hospitality, 
which  refused  to  draw  any  limits  to  its  exercise,  extended  still 
further.  Not  only  did  the  young  men  and  young  women  in 
Boston  feel  a  special  relationship  with  Phillips  Brooks,  but 
from  every  part  of  the  country  they  came  to  Boston,  and  from 
England  also,  with  letters  entrusting  them  to  his  care,  opening 
with  the  familiar  formula,  "  May  I  introduce  and  commend  to 


798  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

your  confidence  as  if  he  were  my  own  son,  my  young  friend," 
etc.  His  correspondence  abounds  with  appeals  from  anxious 
parents  whose  children  were  going  out  into  the  world,  from 
the  ministers  of  churches  of  every  denomination,  concerned 
for  the  welfare  of  their  young  people,  all  alike  earnestly 
requesting  his  interest,  from  his  personal  friends  also  who 
entrusted  their  sons  and  daughters  to  his  solicitude.  The 
burden  was  immense,  but  he  appeared  to  carry  it  easily, 
knowing  how  to  utilize  agencies  of  every  sort  to  his  purpose. 
He  did  not  neglect  these  commissions,  for  he  knew  how  much 
they  meant  to  those  who  sent  them.  There  were  cases  when 
all  the  other  interests  of  his  life  were  placed  aside,  in  order 
that  he  might  devote  himself  to  one  single  case  of  need  where 
his  personal  supervision  and  sense  of  responsibility  had  be- 
come to  him  the  one  absorbing  duty  of  the  moment. 

The  exacting  requirements  of  such  a  pastorate,  as  thus  far 
described,  would  seem  a  sufficient  task  for  any  man,  quite  as 
much  as  the  strongest  man  could  carry.  We  must  recall  his 
literary  work  also,  costing  no  slight  effort,  surely,  and  the 
range  of  his  philanthropic  efforts  and  sympathies.  But  even 
with  all  this,  we  have  far  from  exhausted  the  list  of  efforts 
put  forth  by  Phillips  Brooks  in  his  beneficent  work.  It  is  in 
his  relations  with  schools  and  colleges,  and  the  higher  institu- 
tions of  learning,  that  we  discern  another  and  most  important 
phase  of  his  pastoral  activity  and  influence.  He  was  called 
upon  constantly  and  from  far  and  near  to  preach  and  to  make 
addresses  to  young  men  in  the  centres  of  education,  whether 
secular  or  religious.  The  list  is  a  long  one,  and  it  would  be 
wearisome  to  attempt  it,  of  institutions  which  asked  for  his 
presence.  He  had  his  preferences,  we  may  suppose,  among 
the  schools  and  colleges,  but  he  had  the  gift  of  making  it 
appear  that  each  one  was  his  special  favorite  and  came  closest 
to  his  heart.  Yale  University  came  among  the  first  in  the 
order  of  discovery  of  his  efficiency.  He  went  there  often  to 
lecture,  at  the  request  of  President  Porter.  Although  he  had 
delivered  a  course  of  lectures  on  Preaching  on  the  Sage  Foun- 
dation in  1877,  yet  he  was  invited  to  deliver  a  second  course 
on  the  same  foundation  in  1885.    "Among  all  the  inhabitants 


*t.  23-57]  SCHOOLS  AND  COLLEGES        799 

of  the  globe,"  so  runs  the  invitation,  "  you  are  our  first  choice ; 
if  you  cannot  write  lectures,  bring  any  of  your  old  sermons." 
To  Cornell  University  he  went  as  early  as  1875,  initiating  an 
annual  course  of  sermons  to  become  a  fixed  feature  of  the 
institution,  of  which  President  White  says  to  him :  "  I  do  not 
suppose  that  any  college  chapel  ever  before  exhibited,  Sunday 
after  Sunday,  so  many  attractive  faces.  The  new  organ  in 
the  chapel  is  one  of  the  tangible  monuments  of  your  success 
here." 

The  Institute  of  Technology  in  Boston  was  certainly  one 
of  the  institutions  whose  well-being  he  cherished  deeply,  and 
so  often  was  he  there  on  representative  occasions  that  he 
seemed  to  be  in  some  official  relationship.  He  went  often  to 
Williams  College  at  the  request  of  President  Carter,  who 
writes  to  him  in  1882,  "  I  have  long  felt  that  your  influence 
as  a  preacher  of  the  manliness  of  Christ  ought  not  to  be  con- 
fined to  the  young  men  of  Boston."  In  1884  he  was  elected 
president  of  the  Harvard  Alumni  Association.  He  was  in- 
vited to  the  opening  of  the  Johns  Hopkins  Hospital  in  1885, 
where  the  President  of  the  United  States  was  to  be  present, 
the  governor  of  the  state,  the  various  medical  faculties,  and 
representatives  of  philanthropic  institutions,  when  from  every 
point  of  view  the  occasion  would  be  one  of  mark.  The  invi- 
tation to  make  the  address  was  very  urgent,  "the  wish  to 
have  you  is  unanimous."  In  1886  Dr.  McCosh  invited  him 
to  Princeton  to  give  the  address  on  Graduates'  Day.  He 
went  to  Washington  and  Lee  University  in  Virginia  in  1888. 
He  was  asked  to  give  a  course  of  lectures  before  the  students 
of  Johns  Hopkins  University  in  1890 :  "  You,  better  than 
any  one  else  that  we  can  think  of,  can  reach  the  minds  of 
those  who  will  be  here  assembled."  In  the  same  year  he  had 
two  other  similar  invitations,  one  to  give  the  Baldwin  Lec- 
tures, at  Ann  Arbor,  where  he  was  assured  of  "  a  throng  of 
students ; "  and  another  to  the  Ohio  Wesleyan  University, 
where  a  new  lecture  foundation  had  just  been  established  by 
ex-President  Herrick,  who  had  named  Phillips  Brooks  as  his 
first  choice. 

He  was  one  of  the  trustees  of  Groton  School,  of  which  Rev. 


800  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

Endicott  Peabody  was  head  master,  having  taken  the  deepest 
interest  in  the  inception  of  the  school,  and  visiting  it  often, 
not  only  in  his  official  capacity,  but  as  a  friend  of  the  boys, 
who  felt  that  in  some  peculiar  way  he  belonged  to  them.  In 
1887  he  wrote  the  Groton  School  Hymn,  which  ever  since 
has  been  sung  on  the  greater  days  in  the  school  life. 

Theological  seminaries  seemed  to  be  placed  under  his  spe- 
cial charge,  always  standing  open  to  him  with  a  peculiar 
welcome.  This  was  true  of  Andover  and  of  Cambridge,  and 
appears  to  have  been  more  emphatically  true  of  the  Metho- 
dist Divinity  School  connected  with  Boston  University,  where 
he  made  his  influence  felt  for  twenty  years  upon  every  class 
going  forth  from  its  walls. 

His  interest  in  young  men  while  in  college,  says  Bishop 
Lawrence,  surpassed  the  interest  he  felt  in  them  after  they 
had  entered  upon  their  course  of  professional  study.  So 
long  as  there  was  the  open  possibility  his  interest  was  at  the 
height,  for  his  imagination  was  touched  at  the  prospect.  In 
his  conversation  with  young  men  he  was  remarkably  frank, 
drawing  out  their  best  as  he  gave  of  his  best  in  return.  He 
would  reveal  his  inmost  experience,  or  relate  his  history, 
placing  the  accumulated  wealth  of  his  inner  life  at  their 
disposal.  In  the  reports  of  conversations  with  them,  of  which 
there  are  many,  we  see  almost  a  different  man,  so  fully  does 
he  speak  of  himself,  and  unbosom  his  deepest,  most  sacred 
hopes  and  aspirations. 

But  the  story  of  the  relation  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  young 
men  must  be  supplemented  with  the  record  of  his  relations 
to  young  women  to  whom  the  college  had  thrown  open  simi- 
lar opportunities.  The  relation  was  as  influential  as  with 
young  men.  Thus  he  was  elected  as  an  honorary  member  of 
the  class  of  1889  at  Wellesley  College,  of  the  class  of  1890 
at  Mt.  Holyoke  College,  and  of  the  class  of  1891  at  Whea- 
ton  Seminary.  One  of  the  members  of  the  class  of  1889  at 
"Wellesley  writes :  — 

His  association  with  the  class  was  highly  prized  by  all  of  us, 
and  none  but  members  of  '89  can  know  what  inspiration  his  con- 
nection with  us  was.     We  were  privileged  to  know  something  of 


jet.  23-57]    WELLESLEY   COLLEGE  801 

the  tender  thoughtfulness  and  eager  sympathy  with  which  he  could 
enter  into  our  plans  and  pleasures.  We  shall  never  forget  the 
fine  courtesy  with  which  he  wore  the  tassel  of  his  Oxford  cap  on 
the  B.  A.  side  on  our  Senior  Tree  Day  because  he  belonged  to 
'89.  The  eagerness  with  which  he  demanded  a  class  pin,  and 
the  faithfulness  with  which  he  wore  it  on  subsequent  visits  to  the 
college,  the  glee  with  which  he  shouldered  our  poor  dead  class 
tree  and  bore  it  away  that  we  might  have  our  picture  taken  with 
it,  —  these  and  many  more  instances  are  cherished  by  us. 

When  we  first  asked  him  to  be  an  honorary  member  of  our 
class,  and  he  had  actually  said  that  he  would  be,  we  were  in- 
clined to  be  a  little  shy,  for  we  had  been  told  that  "he  was  very 
fond  of  boys,  but  didn't  like  girls."  But  the  first  time  we  met 
him  socially,  all  that  fear  vanished,  either  because  the  hearsay 
was  false,  or  because  of  the  great-souled  humanity  that  loved  all. 

There  were  times  at  Wellesley,  as  the  students  were  gathered 
around  him  asking  questions,  when  there  came  a  strange  solemnity 
upon  him,  and  he  was  moved  as  he  spoke.  One  of  these  times 
was  when  the  talk  turned  upon  immortality.  There  would  be 
moments  also  when  the  students  were  loath  to  leave  him,  keeping 
up  the  talk,  or  the  merriment  it  might  be,  until  the  bell  rang  for 
the  chapel  service.  Then  he  would  take  his  place  and  preach  to 
the  students  as  no  one  else  could  do. 

That  was  a  charmed  circle,  of  which  Dr.  Brooks  made  the 
centre,  and  truly,  the  hearts  of  those  girls  burned  within  them  as 
they  talked  with  him.  How  full  of  questions  those  hours  were ! 
As  if  a  group  of  college  girls  were  the  one  element  in  which  he 
found  himself  most  at  home,  Dr.  Brooks  would  turn,  from  one  to 
another  of  his  listeners,  now  sportively  laying  claim  to  some  class 
or  college  privilege,  then  joining  in  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  difficul- 
ties in  his  way. 

Again  the  conversation  would  take  a  serious  turn.  The  heart 
of  a  new  book  would  be  laid  bare,  the  progress  of  some  social 
movement  in  all  its  vital  relations  to  life.  Perhaps  the  question 
turned  on  the  subject  of  a  preceding  talk  or  sermon,  and  then,  in 
a  simple  way,  the  spiritual  life  of  each  was  quickened  and  stirred 
by  the  pure  fire  of  the  soul  which  touched  it  in  an  answer. 

And  always  with  the  thought  of  Dr.  Brooks  will  rise  to  mind 
the  evening  chapel  hour,  —  a  room  crowded  to  overflowing,  the 
swaying  of  that  majestic  form  behind  the  desk,  the  full  torrent 
of  words,  the  breathless  hush,  and  last  of  all,  the  heart  of  the 
listener  glowing  from  the  warm  touch  of  Divine  love  through 
God's  inspired  prophet.1 

1  Cf .  The  Wellesley  Magazine,  March,  1893,  for  these  and  other  reminiscences. 
VOL.  II 


802  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

What  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  Harvard  has  been  made 
apparent  to  some  extent  in  the  foregoing  chapters.  In  his 
relation  to  its  students  he  has  been  compared  to  Dr.  Arnold 
at  Rugby.  "  His  influence,"  writes  a  Harvard  student,  "  was 
tremendous  and  was  much  needed  :  "  — 

That  intellectual  paralysis  and  moral  dry-rot  which  some  of 
its  wretched  victims  complacently  style  "  Harvard  indifference  " 
could  not  endure  the  presence  and  inspiration  of  a  man  like  Phil- 
lips Brooks.  One  of  his  last  efforts  was  an  appeal  to  educate 
young  men  to  do  something.  He  lamented  that  so  many  delayed 
entering  upon  the  fight  of  life  until  they  had  passed  the  first  flush 
of  youthful  ardor.  "Do  something,"  he  adjured  them,  "do  some- 
thing, do  something."     It  was  his  last  appeal  to  young  men. 

It  has  often  been  the  complaint  in  these  later  years  that 
the  Christian  ministry  has  ceased  to  be  an  attractive  profes- 
sion to  young  men,  in  comparison  with  other  callings,  as  in- 
stanced by  the  relatively  small  number  of  graduates  from 
Harvard  and  other  large  colleges  whom  it  enlists  in  its  ranks. 
But  when  Phillips  Brooks  spoke  of  the  ministry  as  a  profes- 
sion to  Harvard  students,  it  seemed  as  if  no  other  calling 
could  for  a  moment  compete  with  it  in  its  human  attractive- 
ness and  importance.  It  was  in  1886  that  a  course  of  lectures 
was  projected  on  the  different  professions,  each  to  be  given  by 
one  who  occupied  the  foremost  rank,  Richardson  giving  the 
lecture  on  architecture  as  a  profession,  and  Judge  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes  on  law.  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  speak  for 
the  ministry.  Each  lecturer  was  to  deal  with  the  practical 
side  of  the  subject,  the  qualifications  needed,  the  difficulties 
to  be  surmounted,  the  emolument,  in  a  word  all  that  might 
be  necessary  to  enable  the  student  to  make  an  intelligent 
choice.  One  who  was  present  when  Phillips  Brooks  talked 
on  the  ministry  writes :  — 

I  was  there  in  Sever  11,  and  it  was  an  occasion  in  the  life  of 
Brooks,  —  a  great  opportunity,  and  he  realized  it.  The  hall  was 
never  more  crowded.  Students  stood  and  sat  on  the  window- 
seats;  they  seemed  to  he  on  each  other's  shoulders.  He  tried  to 
be  cool  and  philosophical,  and  tell  them  what  the  ministry  was 
like,  as  previous  speakers  had  told  of  the  other  professions,  —  he 
started  in  that  way,   hut  the  mass  of  the  young  men  and  the 


jet.  23-57]    HARVARD   UNIVERSITY  803 

upturned  faces  and  the  subject  got  the  better  of  him,  till,  throwing 
philosophy  and  cool  statement  to  the  winds,  he  broke  out,  "I 
can't  come  here  and  talk  to  you  of  the  ministry  as  one  of  the 
professions.  I  must  tell  you  that  it  is  the  noblest  and  most  glo- 
rious calling  to  which  a  man  can  give  himself."  The  torrent 
once  loose,  it  did  not  cease  till  it  reached  the  deep  calm  of  his 
closing  words.  One  was  almost  afraid  that  the  whole  body  of 
young  men  would  rise  on  the  impulse  and  cry,  "Here  am  I,  send 
me !  "     That  was  a  great  speech,  for  its  feeling  and  its  thought. 

Another  lecture,  "The  Minister  and  his  People,"  given 
before  the  students  of  the  Divinity  School,  has  been  ever 
since  remembered,  often  spoken  of  as  one  of  his  most  charac- 
teristic and  powerful  speeches,  and  deserving  a  permanent 
place  among  his  writings.1  There  was  an  amusing  incident 
in  connection  with  it,  —  his  surprise  and  embarrassment  at 
finding  a  large  audience  when  he  had  expected  a  small  one, 
an  audience  in  which  the  women  seemed  to  predominate. 

He  was  a  stalwart  defender  of  Harvard  against  any  hostile 
criticism  which  might  be  made  on  the  score  of  religious 
dangers  to  be  encountered  there.  To  a  young  man  asking 
his  advice,  where  he  should  go  to  college,  he  wrote :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  March  28,  1887. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  I  am  glad  that  you  are  thinking  of  com- 
ing to  Harvard  College,  and  hope  that  you  will  do  so.  I  think 
that  it  was  never  so  good  a  place  for  the  life  and  study  of  a 
young  man  as  it  is  to-day.  I  have  known  it  for  the  last  thirty- 
six  years,  and  watched  it  closely  all  that  time.  It  has  improved 
and  ripened  steadily,  until  it  may  be  said  to-day,  with  no  dispar- 
agement to  other  colleges,  that  nowhere  can  a  better  education  be 
obtained  than  at  Harvard. 

There  are  young  men  there  of  every  form  of  religious  faith, 
and  many  who  have  no  faith.  There  are  scoffers,  perhaps  there 
are  blasphemers.  There  are  also  earnest,  noble,  consecrated 
Christian  men,  and  many  souls  seeking  a  light  and  truth  which 
they  have  not  yet  found.  You  will  meet  in  the  college  what  you 
will  meet  in  the  world.  You  will  have  to  choose  what  you  will 
be,  as  you  will  have  to  choose  all  your  life.  You  will  find  all 
the  help  which  Christian  friends  and  Christian  services  can  give 
to  a  young  man  whose  real  reliance  must  be  on  God  and  his  own 
soul.      I  hope  that  you  will  come  and  be  the  better  and  not  the 

1  A  full  report  was  published  in  The  Christian  Register,  February  28,  1884. 


804  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

worse  Christian  for  your  four  years'  course.  If  you  do  come  and 
I  can  serve  you,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  Pray  come  and  see  me  as 
soon  as  you  are  settled  here,  and  let  me  know  how  the  questions 
which  are  now  very  rightly  on  your  mind  find  their  solution. 

I  hope  you  will  write  to  me  again  if  there  are  any  special  ques- 
tions which  you  wish  to  ask  me,  and  I  am,  with  all  best  wishes, 
Yours  most  sincerely,  Phillips  Brooks. 

In  1892  he  was  present  in  New  York  at  the  annual  dinner 
of  the  Harvard  Club,  where  he  was  greeted  when  he  rose  to 
speak  with  prolonged  applause  and  cheers,  every  one  rising  to 
his  feet  to  do  him  honor.  What  was  an  unusual  thing  with 
him,  he  continued  to  talk  for  half  an  hour  in  a  half -serious, 
half -jocular  vein.  He  defended  the  change  to  voluntary 
prayers  at  Harvard :  — 

I  trust  there  are  colleges  more  religious  than  Harvard.  It  is 
possible.  But  I  will  say  this  of  Harvard,  —  I  do  not  know  any 
other  community  in  Christendom  where  one  third  of  the  popula- 
tion, without  the  slightest  compulsion  of  law  or  public  opinion, 
deliberately  attends  religious  service. 

The  interest  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  Harvard,  as  in  other 
institutions  with  which  he  was  connected,  was  not  merely  a 
philanthropic  one,  in  some  vague  and  general  way,  leading 
him  to  the  utterance  of  fine  sentiments,  but  it  was  a  concrete, 
personal  relation,  where  he  carried  the  needs  of  many  indi- 
vidual students.  He  was  aiding  young  men  with  money  as 
well  as  with  advice,  —  young  men  with  their  pathetic  stories 
and  their  failures,  brought  to  him  in  the  conviction  that  he 
could  help,  if  any  mortal  could,  in  their  restoration. 

Harvard  students  became  familiar  with  the  sight  of  Phil- 
lips Brooks  both  in  the  chapel  pulpit  and  upon  the  college 
campus.     Here  is  a  description  of  his  appearance :  — 

Many  a  morning,  after  chapel,  one  might  see  President  Eliot 
and  the  great  divine  crossing  the  quadrangle  together,  or  coming 
down  the  avenue  in  front  of  Gore  Hall.  President  Eliot  is  him- 
self a  tall  and  stalwart  figure;  but  he  was  completely  dwarfed 
by  the  great  bulk  and  towering  height  of  his  companion.  Clad 
in  a  voluminous  ulster,  with  a  large,  broad-brimmed  silk  hat 
tipped  back  a  little  on  his  head,  and  usually  with  a  big  walking- 
stick  under  his  arm,  Dr.  Brooks  strode  along  in  Brobdingnagian 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  805 

ease,  looking  like  a  walking  tower.  His  face  in  repose  suggested 
benevolence  and  placidity  rather  than  power,  and  irreverent  col- 
lege younglings  used  to  comment  wittily  on  his  habit  of  keeping 
his  mouth  ajar  as  he  walked  along.  He  was  usually  wrapped  in 
profound  abstraction. 

Any  sketch  of  the  characteristics  or  of  the  pastoral  activity 
of  Phillips  Brooks  which  omitted  his  relation  to  children 
would  indeed  be  deficient.  He  read  children  by  the  power 
of  his  imagination,  but  not  without  close  experience  of  child 
life.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  as  well  as  practical  sermons 
he  ever  preached  was  on  the  education  of  children.1  Beneath 
it  lay  the  love  and  devotion  which  had  gone  forth  from  their 
infancy  to  Agnes,  Gertrude,  and  Susan,  the  children  of  his 
brother  William.  Not  only  was  he  their  frequent  visitor,  but 
he  made  it  a  rule  to  go  to  his  brother's  house  whenever  he 
was  free  on  Sunday  evenings.  He  had  the  children  learn  the 
poems  which  he  liked,  and  preserving  the  tradition  of  his 
father's  household,  he  called  for  their  repetition,  as  a  sacred 
task.  He  took  the  children  with  him  when  ne  went  to  buy 
the  Christmas  presents,  enjoining  them  to  forget  all  they 
knew  about  them  until  Christmas  came.  It  was  a  rule,  and  a 
trying  one  for  the  children,  that  no  presents  were  to  be  looked 
at  until  Uncle  Phillips  came  to  dinner  on  Christmas  Day, 
after  his  service  in  church  was  over,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  opened  in  his  presence  and  he  might  share  in  the  joy. 
He  preserved  their  letters,  filing  them  in  the  order  of  their 
dates.  When  Gertrude  was  old  enough,  he  made  her  his 
companion,  taking  her  with  him  on  his  journeys  or  when 
going  to  Cambridge,  and  often  insisting  on  her  being  at  the 
rectory  for  breakfast.  When  Susan  was  old  enough  she  was 
to  share  in  the  privilege.  In  these  little  things  he  was  exi- 
gent, out  of  the  abundance  of  his  heart  concentrating  his 
affection. 

To  be  with  children  seemed  to  give  him  more  pleasure  than 
anything  else  in  life.    He  was  much  in  demand  for  children's 

1  Cf.  "The  Education  of  Children,"  in  the  Boston  Transcript  for  April  26, 
1890.  The  text  of  the  sermon  was  Luke  ix.  48 :  "  Whosoever  shall  receive  this 
child  in  my  name  receiveth  me." 


806  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

schools.  There  were  homes  for  poor  children  where  he 
visited  regularly,  going  quite  as  much  apparently  for  his  own 
pleasure  as  for  the  children's  profit.  He  is  recalled  on  one 
occasion  as  bitterly  disappointed,  and  showing  that  he  was  so, 
when  he  went  to  one  of  these  homes  in  the  suburbs  of  Boston 
one  Sunday  afternoon,  expecting  a  good  time  in  playing  and 
even  romping  with  them,  to  find  that  advantage  had  been 
taken  of  his  coming  to  invite  an  audience  of  adults  to  meet 
him,  whose  contribution  to  the  support  of  the  home  it  was 
desirable  to  obtain.  When  he  realized  the  situation  he  went 
to  the  window  and  stood  there  in  silence,  after  having  made 
his  remonstrance.  There  were  not  only  the  children  in  vari- 
ous institutions  whom  he  carried  in  his  heart,  but  there  were 
the  children  in  hundreds  of  households  where  he  visited,  who 
rejoiced  at  his  coming  and  claimed  him  as  a  friend.  Number- 
less are  the  anecdotes  which  illustrate  this  mutual  devotion 
and  friendship.  The  story  of  Helen  Keller  may  be  recalled 
as  a  beautiful  instance  of  the  extraordinary  character  as  well 
as  range  of  his  parish  ministry.1  She  was  entrusted  to  his  care 
by  her  father,  who  was  anxious  that  her  first  religious  instruc- 
tion should  come  from  Phillips  Brooks.  The  story  need  not  be 
repeated  here,  for  it  has  had  wide  circulation,  how  he  sounded 
the  depths  of  that  young  soul,  shut  out  from  access  to  the  ordi- 
nary methods  of  acquiring  knowledge,  of  sight  and  of  hear- 
ing, and  gave  to  her  the  idea  of  God.  He  was  profoundly 
impressed  with  the  remark  she  made  after  the  first  conversa- 
tion, that  she  had  always  known  there  was  a  God,  but  had 
not  before  known  His  name.  She  continued  to  write  letters 
to  him  as  long  as  he  lived,  telling  him  about  herself,  her 
thoughts,  her  experiences.  In  one  of  his  letters  in  reply  he 
makes  one  of  those  profound  remarks  which  put  to  shame  the 
attempted  philosophy  of  life,  yet  so  simple  that  a  child  could 
understand  it,  and  so  true  that  it  called  for  no  evidence,  "  The 
reason  why  we  love  our  friends  is  because  God  loves  us." 

Still  another  sphere  into  which  the  ministry  of  Phillips 
Brooks  expanded  was  the  number  of  those  to  be  counted  by 
the  thousands  who  had  never  seen  or  heard  him  but  knew 
1  Cf .  Letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  Helen  Keller,  Boston,  1893. 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  807 

him  by  the  reading  of  his  books.  To  illustrate  the  nature 
and  extent  of  this  service,  it  would  be  necessary  to  reproduce 
the  letters  of  those  whose  gratitude  for  the  aid  and  comfort  he 
had  given  demanded  expression,  —  letters  constantly  coming 
to  him,  telling  him,  it  almost  seems  in  exaggerated  strain,  how 
he  had  been  the  means  of  imparting  faith  and  hope.  He 
needed  these  letters  for  his  own  encouragement ;  they  were  to 
him  like  the  staying  up  of  Moses'  arms  when  engaged  in 
prayer.  A  friend  of  his  recalls  his  words :  "  Do  not  be  chary 
of  appreciation.  Hearts  are  unconsciously  hungry  for  it. 
There  is  little  danger,  especially  with  us  in  this  cold  New  Eng- 
land region,  that  appreciation  shall  be  given  too  abundantly." 

The  power  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  the  sick  room  was  recog- 
nized as  something  wonderful  and  rare.  A  mysterious  influ- 
ence seemed  to  go  forth  from  him  for  good,  for  strength  and 
life,  even  when  he  sat  down  in  silence  by  the  bedside  and  no 
need  was  felt  for  words.  He  had  a  great  gift  for  inspiriting 
people  who  were  depressed  or  had  lost  heart  for  their  work. 
A  word  from  him  would  send  them  back  to  their  tasks  again, 
with  renewed  energy.  What  he  said  to  a  young  woman 
tired  out  with  the  care  of  an  invalid  mother  may  illustrate, 
even  without  his  voice  and  presence,  how  he  dealt  with  the 
disheartened,  "  You  go  on  taking  care  of  your  mother,  and 
when  she  is  gone,  God  will  take  care  of  you." 

The  letters  he  wrote  to  people  in  affliction,  if  gathered  to- 
gether, would  form  a  considerable  volume.  He  seemed  to 
attract  them,  as  he  did  the  poor,  the  sick,  the  outcast,  by  some 
force  which  he  did  not  consciously  exercise,  and  yet  of  whose 
existence  he  was  aware.  He  had  made,  as  we  have  seen,  a 
study  of  the  art  of  consolation.  It  was  not  only  by  imagina- 
tion that  he  entered  into  the  woes  of  others,  though  imagina- 
tion helped  him  and  was  alert  on  the  slightest  appeal  to  his 
sympathy,  and  he  could  not  have  been  so  successful  without 
its  aid.  But  he  was  applying  the  consolation  to  himself  in 
the  first  instance,  and  testing  on  himself  its  power  before  he 
carried  it  to  others.  The  flight  of  time,  the  departure  of 
youth,  the  loss  of  friends,  the  changing  world  kept  his  mind 
and  heart  absorbed  with  the  problem  of  the  meaning  of  life, 


808  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

—  the  purpose  of  God  in  giving  or  withholding  or  withdraw- 
ing his  gifts.  The  strange  mystery  of  it  all  was  a  burden  he 
could  not  throw  off ;  but  amidst  the  complications  of  life  one 
truth  stood  out  clearly  before  him, — we  find  it  in  his  letters  of 
condolence  as  early  as  1883,  when  he  was  writing  to  a  friend 
on  the  loss  of  two  children  who  died  together  in  infancy,  — 
and  this  truth  he  formulated  as  the  essence  and  final  result  of 
his  observation  of  life,  "  God  never  takes  away  any  gift  which 
He  has  once  given  to  His  children"  Out  of  these  many  letters 
of  consolation,  one  is  here  given  as  a  type  of  all :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  19,  1891. 

Dear  Mr.   ,   I  have  thought  much  about  our  meeting 

last  Sunday,  and  the  few  words  we  had  together.  May  I  try  to 
tell  you  again  where  your  only  comfort  lies  ?  It  is  not  in  for- 
getting the  happy  past.  People  bring  us  well-meant  but  miser- 
able consolation  when  they  tell  what  time  will  do  to  help  our 
grief.  We  do  not  want  to  lose  our  grief,  because  our  grief  is 
bound  up  with  our  love  and  we  could  not  cease  to  mourn  without 
being  robbed  of  our  affections. 

But  if  you  know,  as  you  do  know,  that  the  great  and  awful 
change  which  has  come  into  your  life  and  wrought  you  such  dis- 
tress has  brought  your  dear  wife  the  joy  of  heaven,  can  you  not, 
in  the  midst  of  all  your  suffering,  rejoice  for  her  ? 

And  if,  knowing  that  she  is  with  God,  you  can  be  with  God 
too,  and  every  day  claim  his  protection,  and  try  to  do  his  will, 
may  you  not  still  in  spirit  be  very  near  to  her  ? 

She  is  not  dead,  but  living,  and  if  you  are  sure  of  what  care  is 
holding  her  and  educating  her,  you  can  be  very  constantly  with 
her  in  spirit,  and  look  forward  confidently  to  the  day  when  you 
shall  also  go  to  God  and  be  with  her. 

I  know  this  does  not  take  away  your  pain,  —  no  one  can  do 
that,  you  do  not  want  any  one  to  do  that,  not  even  God ;  but  it 
can  help  you  to  bear  it,  to  be  brave  and  cheerful,  to  do  your 
duty,  and  to  live  the  pure,  earnest,  spiritual  life  which  she,  in 
heaven,  wishes  you  to  live. 

It  is  the  last  effort  of  unselfishness,  the  last  token  which  you 
can  give  her  of  the  love  you  bear  her,  that  you  can  let  her  pass 
out  of  your  sight  to  go  to  God. 

My  dear  friend,  she  is  yours  forever.  God  never  takes  away 
what  He  has  once  given.  May  He  make  you  worthy  of  her !  May 
He  comfort  you  and  make  you  strong! 

Your  friend  sincerely,  Phillips  Brooks. 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  809 

Many  were  the  attempts  to  fathom  the  secret  of  Phillips 
Brooks's  power  in  the  pulpit.  And  of  them  all  it  may  be 
said  that  they  were  so  many  contributions  to  the  solution  of 
the  problem,  while  yet  in  the  last  analysis  the  secret  re- 
mained, mysterious,  inexplicable.  Thus  was  he  placed  in 
comparison  with  famous  preachers  whose  reputation  is  cher- 
ished in  the  church's  tradition;  but  no  standard  of  judgment 
could  be  found,  and  in  the  comparison  the  difference  stood 
forth  more  prominent  than  the  resemblance.  No  one  was  a 
closer  student  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  the  pulpit  than  his  Eng- 
lish friend,  Professor  James  Bryce.  After  speaking  of  other 
preachers  whom  he  had  heard,  —  Bishop  Wilberforce,  Dr. 
Candlish,  Mr.  Spurgeon,  Dr.  Liddon,  and  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  —  Mr.  Bryce  continues :  — 

All  these  famous  men  were,  in  a  sense,  more  brilliant,  that 
is  to  say,  more  rhetorically  effective,  than  Dr.  Brooks,  yet  none 
of  them  seemed  to  speak  so  directly  to  the  soul.  With  all  of 
them  it  was  impossible  to  forget  the  speaker  in  the  words  spoken, 
because  the  speaker  did  not  seem  to  have  quite  forgotten  himself, 
but  to  have  studied  the  effect  he  sought  to  produce.  With  him 
it  was  otherwise.  What  amount  of  preparation  he  may  have 
given  to  his  discourses  I  do  not  know.  But  there  was  no  sign  of 
art  about  them,  no  touch  of  self -consciousness.  He  spoke  to  his 
audience  as  a  man  might  speak  to  his  friend,  pouring  forth  with 
swift,  yet  quiet  and  seldom  impassioned  earnestness  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  a  singularly  pure  and  lofty  spirit.  The  listeners 
never  thought  of  style  or  manner,  but  only  of  the  substance  of 
the  thoughts.  They  were  entranced  and  carried  out  of  themselves 
by  the  strength  and  sweetness  and  beauty  of  the  aspects  of  reli- 
gious truth  and  its  helpfulness  to  weak  human  nature  which  he 
presented.  Dr.  Brooks  was  the  best  because  the  most  edifying 
of  preachers.  .  .  .  There  was  a  wealth  of  keen  observation,  fine 
reflection,  and  insight  both  subtle  and  imaginative,  all  touched 
with  a  warmth  and  tenderness  which  seemed  to  transfuse  and 
irradiate  the  thought  itself.  In  this  blending  of  perfect  simpli- 
city of  treatment  with  singular  fertility  and  elevation  of  thought, 
no  other  among  the  famous  preachers  of  the  generation  that  is 
now  vanishing  approached  him.1 

Professor  A.  B.  Bruce,  of  Glasgow  University,  the  author 
of   important    books,  —  "The   Kingdom    of     God,"    "The 

1  Cf.  The  Westminster  Gazette,  February  6,  1893. 


810  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

Humiliation  of  Christ,"  "The  Training  of  the  Twelve," 
"Apologetics,"  etc., — a  man  with  "strong,  clear,  Scotch 
intellect,"  when  he  was  in  this  country  delivering  a  course  of 
lectures  in  Union  Theological  Seminary,  took  the  opportunity 
to  hear  Phillips  Brooks. 

He  came  down  to  my  house  one  evening  [says  Rev.  E.  W. 
Donald],  full  of  enthusiasm  that  could  not  be  repressed,  because 
he  had  heard,  on  the  previous  Sunday,  three  sermons  by  Phillips 
Brooks.  He  had  gone  to  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation  in  the 
morning  out  of  a  mild  curiosity;  had  broken  an  engagement  with 
a  friend  to  hear  a  minister  of  his  own  church  in  the  afternoon, 
that  he  might  again  hear  Mr.  Brooks;  and  he  had  broken  still 
another  engagement  in  the  evening  also  to  listen  to  a  clergyman 
of  his  own  church,  that  he  might  hear  Mr.  Brooks  preach  once 
more.  When  I  asked  him,  "How  does  he  compare  with  your 
great  preachers  in  Scotland  and  England  ? "  he  said,  with  a 
homely  and  yet  a  very  striking  figure,  "  It  is  this  way :  our  great 
preachers  take  into  the  pulpit  a  bucket  full  or  half  full  of  the 
Word  of  God,  and  then,  by  the  force  of  personal  mechanism, 
they  attempt  to  convey  it  to  the  congregation.  But  this  man  is 
just  a  great  water  main,  attached  to  the  everlasting  reservoir  of 
God's  truth  and  grace  and  love,  and  streams  of  life,  by  a  hea- 
venly gravitation,  pour  through  him  to  refresh  every  weary  soul." 

From  an  article  by  Rev.  H.  G.  Spaulding,  entitled  "The 
Preaching  of  Phillips  Brooks,"1  a  few  extracts  are  taken 
bearing  upon  his  power  and  the  secret  of  his  strength :  — 

Of  Phillips  Brooks  a  brother  clergyman  has  said,  "He  had  but 
to  stand  up  before  an  audience  and  let  himself  be  seen,  and  the 
day  was  won."  But  that  which  won  the  day  was  the  rare  combi- 
nation of  qualities,  —  the  magnificent  presence,  the  commanding 
stature,  the  flashing  eye,  the  sympathetic  voice  vibrant  with  emo- 
tion, the  swift  imagination,  and  the  wonderful  faculty  of  massing 
words  till  their  very  volume  became  the  fit  vehicle  of  the  rushing 
thoughts.  To  all  these  qualities  were  superadded  the  thorough 
manliness,  the  transparent  simplicity,  the  complete  Christlikeness, 
of  the  preacher's  character.  The  exhortation  to  diviner  living 
derived  its  potency  from  the  actual  divineness  of  the  life  from 
which  the  message  came.  .  .  .  "By  common  consent,"  as  Presi- 
dent Tucker,  of  Dartmouth,  well  says,  "no  one  has  translated  so 
much  of  the  Christian  religion  into  current  thought  and  life." 
1  Cf.  The  New  World,  March,  1895. 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  8 1 1 

Of  Phillips  Brooks  we  may  say,  as  was  said  of  Plato: 
"Because  he  was  also  an  artist,  he  immersed  his  thought  in  the 
warm  atmosphere  of  human  life,  and  at  every  stage  gave  it  the 
dramatic  interest  of  intimate  human  association." 

In  the  comparison  with    other  preachers,   Barrow,   Jeremy 
Taylor,  Fenelon,  and  Tauler  are  mentioned  :  — 

We  miss  in  their  works  the  blood-veined  humanity,  the  spirit 
of  sonship,  and  the  broad  and  manly  sympathies  of  Phillips 
Brooks.  .  .  .  These  flush  his  eloquent  periods  with  a  fervor  that 
Barrow  altogether  lacked.  These  make  his  figures  of  speech  — 
many  of  which  are  as  beautiful  as  any  that  Jeremy  Taylor  used 
—  resemble  flowers  freshly  plucked,  glittering  with  the  yet  un- 
wasted  dew,  and  clothe  his  mysticism  with  a  lifelikeness  and 
reality  for  want  of  which  the  discourses  of  the  earlier  mystics 
seem  but  pallid  ghosts  and  empty  semblances  of  truth. 

The  late  Eev.  R.  S.  Storrs,  of  Brooklyn,  himself  an  eminent 
preacher,  enumerates  the  gifts  of  Phillips  Brooks  which  con- 
stituted his  power :  — 

Thus  there  was  in  him  a  majesty  and  strength  of  spirit,  as  of 
person,  which  all  had  to  recognize,  and  were  glad  to  recognize; 
but  with  this  was  the  utmost,  loveliest  gentleness  and  tenderness 
which  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shadiest  places,  among  the  humblest 
families  whom  he  visited.  There  was  that  unsurpassed  affluence 
of  nature  and  of  culture,  but  with  it  there  was  the  beautiful  sim- 
plicity of  spirit,  as  of  the  vital  air,  as  of  the  sunshine  which 
irradiates  and  bathes  the  earth,  —  a  simplicity  as  childlike  as  one 
ever  saw  in  a  human  soul.  There  was  his  utter  devotion  to  the 
highest  ideals  of  duty  and  of  truth,  and  his  keenest  apprehension 
of  the  beauty  and  authority  of  these  ideals ;  and  yet  there  was 
with  this  the  most  sympathetic  interest,  habitual  and  spontaneous, 
in  humble  persons,  and  in  the  common  affairs  of  life,  his  own  or 
others.  There  was  that  marvellous  eloquence,  yet  consecrated 
always,  in  its  utmost  reach  and  rush,  to  the  service  of  the  Master, 
to  the  giving  of  the  message  which  the  Master  had  given  him  for 
the  souls  of  men.  And  with  all  the  self-respecting  consciousness 
which  he  could  not  but  possess,  and  with  all  the  admiration  and 
love  and  honor  which  have  surrounded  him  as  almost  no  other  of 
his  time,  there  was  that  marvellous  modesty,  which  shrank  from 
anything  of  self-assertion  or  assumption  over  others,  and  which 
showed  to  the  last  no  more  of  either  of  these  than  when  he  had 
been  a  boy  in  school,  or  a  freshman  in  college.      It  was  this  com- 


812  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

bination  of  qualities,  interblending  with  each  other,  representing 
the  golden  hemispheres  of  the  perfect  globe,  which  gave  a  some- 
thing unique  and  mystical  to  the  spirit  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  Rev.  J.  R.  Day,  a  distinguished  Methodist  clergyman, 
was  impressed  by  the  universal  sympathy  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
his  power  to  enter  into  the  lives  of  men  of  every  class,  and 
make  them  his  own :  — 

Marvellously  did  he  bring  out  of  that  wonderful  gospel  teach- 
ings which  appeal  to  the  profound  and  the  learned,  and  plain 
lessons  which  also  help  the  unlettered;  so  that  the  deep-thinking 
were  introduced  to  the  profoundest  philosophy,  and  the  hurried 
man  felt  that  somehow  the  hour  and  the  lesson  were  for  him,  and 
that  he  could  go  out  and  work  noble  manhood  out  of  the  common- 
est callings  of  life.  The  scholar  said,  "He  is  of  us,"  and  the 
unlettered  said,  "He  is  of  us."  The  poor  said,  "He  is  of  us," 
and  the  rich  said,  "He  is  of  us."  To  the  young  he  was  full  of 
mirth  and  buoyancy;  to  the  troubled  he  was  a  man  deeply  ac- 
quainted with  grief.  All  men,  of  all  classes  and  conditions, 
claimed  him,  because  in  his  magnificent  heart  and  sympathy  he 
seemed  to  be  all  men,  and  to  enter  into  their  disappointments 
and  into  their  successes,  and  to  make  them  his  own.  This  was 
rare  genius.      This  was  large  capacity. 

Others  who  were  studying  Phillips  Brooks  found  his  power 
to  lie  in  the  essential  nature  of  what  is  called  genius,  and 
carried  the  examination  no  further.  He  had  "the  genius 
for  religion  and  for  preaching."  He  was  to  the  pulpit  what 
great  poets  are  who  have  given  the  highest  and  fullest  ex- 
pression to  life.  Bishop  Clark  took  the  boldest  comparison, 
calling  him  "the  Shakespeare  of  the  pulpit."  In  the  preach- 
ing of  Phillips  Brooks  there  was,  as  with  Shakespeare,  the 
absence  of  personal  peculiarities. 

If  he  is  nearly  as  impersonal  as  Shakespeare  [says  Rev.  H.  G. 
Spaulding],  it  is  because,  when  he  preaches,  he  becomes  almost 
as  completely  the  voice  of  the  spirit  as  Shakespeare  is  the  voice 
of  nature.  He  draws  his  illustrations  not  from  his  religious 
autobiography,  but  from  the  spiritual  biography  of  the  race. 

In  an  admirable  study  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  a  preacher, 
by  the  late  Professor  Everett,  of  Harvard,  the  same  compari- 
son is  employed  and  expanded :  — 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  813 

We  have,  then,  to  recognize  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  a  man  of 
genius.  He  was  as  truly  such  as  any  of  our  great  poets.  It  is 
not  important,  nor,  indeed,  would  it  be  possible,  to  make  a  com- 
parative estimate  of  his  genius  with  that  of  any  specified  poet  or 
artist.  All  that  is  to  our  purpose  is  to  notice  the  fact  of  his 
wonderful  genius,  and  to  illustrate,  as  may  be  possible,  its  nature 
and  its  methods.  The  genius  that  Phillips  Brooks  possessed 
was  that  of  the  preacher  as  truly  as  that  of  Longfellow  or  of 
Tennyson  was  that  of  the  poet.  I  cannot  say  under  what  other 
forms  this  genius  might  have  manifested  itself.  What  was  ac- 
tually displayed  in  his  life  was  the  genius  of  the  preacher.  Some 
preachers  do  helpful  service  by  their  reasoning.  Some  inspire  by 
the  power  of  their  imagination.  There  are  comparatively  few 
in  whom  the  special  genius  which  marks  the  truest  preacher  as 
such  makes  itself  felt.  This  genius  was  preeminently  the  gift  of 
Phillips  Brooks. 

The  genius  of  the  preacher,  I  need  hardly  say,  consists  in  the 
power  of  so  uttering  spiritual  truth  that  it  shall  be  effective  in 
influencing  the  hearts  of  men.  This  implies  a  profound  insight 
into  religious  truth,  —  an  insight  that  shall  reveal  implications 
and  applications  of  which  the  ordinary  mind  is  not  conscious.  It 
implies  also  a  gift  for  the  presentation  of  what  is  thus  beheld  in 
an  attractive  and  effective  form.  It  is  thus  a  genius  of  expres- 
sion, which  is  something  very  different  from  a  genius  for  expres- 
sions. Shakespeare  had  a  genius  for  expressing  the  passions  of 
the  human  heart.  This  implied  an  insight  into  the  depths  of 
human  life,  a  power  of  creation  by  which  what  he  perceived  was 
embodied  in  living  forms,  and  a  power  of  presentation  by  which 
these  forms  that  lived  for  him  should  live  also  for  the  world.1 

There  was  one  characteristic  of  Phillips  Brooks  regarding 
which  the  verdict  was  unanimous,  —  his  power  of  excitation 
over  an  audience.  How  it  was  done  no  one  could  explain. 
Yet  it  was  clearly  enough  apparent  that,  in  preaching,  he 
was  making  some  mighty  effort  of  the  will  to  lift  his  hearers 
to  his  own  high  altitude,  even  while  he  resorted  to  no  sensa- 
tional efforts,  and  seemed  to  trust  entirely  to  the  power  of 
the  spoken  word  of  truth.  He  knew  that  he  had  the  power; 
he  knew  that  he  could  exert  it  with  success,  though  now  and 
then  he  admitted  failure.  But  while  he  could  arouse  the 
inner  mood  of  a  congregation  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excite- 
1  Cf.  The  Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  April,  1893,  p.  339. 


814  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-93 

ment,  yet  also  his  appeal  was  not  to  the  sensuous  emotion. 
It  was  no  luxury  to  hear  him  preach,  but  it  strained  the 
tension  of  the  hearer  beyond  any  other  experience  of  the  art 
of  oratory.  He  went  beneath  the  feelings  and  moved  the 
mysterious  centre  of  one's  being.  He  played  upon  the  will 
like  some  subtle,  accomplished  musician.  The  remark  of  an 
English  bishop,  Rt.  Rev.  James  Frazer,  of  Manchester,  was 
the  universal  comment,  "He  makes  one  feel  so  strong." 

He  rose  in  his  first  few  sentences  [says  Mr.  Bryce]  like  a 
strong-winged  bird,  into  a  serene  atmosphere  of  meditation,  still- 
ing and  thrilling  the  crowd  that  filled  the  chapel  like  a  strain  of 
solemn  music.  Few  have  possessed  in  equal  measure  the  power 
of  touching  what  is  best  in  men,  and  lifting  them  suddenly  by 
sympathetic  words  to  the  elevation  of  high-strung  feeling  and 
purpose  which  they  cannot  reach  of  themselves,  save  under  some 
wave  of  emotion  due  to  some  personal  crisis  in  life. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  sermons  at  Trinity  Church  that 
Phillips  Brooks  was  at  his  greatest. 

These  were  the  times  [says  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine]  when  the 
glory  of  his  preaching  culminated.  In  words  blazing  with  fire, 
or  melted  in  exquisite  tenderness,  or  radiant  with  hope,  and 
changing  quickly  from  one  emotion  to  another,  often  with  his 
head  thrown  back  and  eyes  on  high  as  piercing  through  the  veil, 
his  great  figure  would  rise  and  dilate  to  its  utmost  majesty,  as 
he  threw  his  arms  wide  open  with  that  mighty  gesture  of  loving 
invitation,  and  then  his  face  would  melt  into  that  angel  smile  of 
tenderness,  never  seen  by  some  of  us  on  any  other  mortal  face. 

A  lady  once  heard  him  in  the  afternoon  at  Trinity,  and  when 
asked  about  the  sermon,  remarked  that  it  was  not  so  good  as  some 
she  had  heard  from  him,  but  that  she  carried  away  from  it  one 
impression,  —  his  deep,  overpowering  love  for  his  congregation. 
On  hearing  this,  he  was  affected  to  tears,  and  remarked  that  he 
would  rather  that  should  be  said  of  him  than  anything  else. 

We  have  the  description  of  one  of  these  afternoon  services 
by  Phillips  Brooks  himself :  — 

I  always  remember  one  special  afternoon  years  ago,  when  the 
light  faded  from  the  room  where  I  was  preaching,  and  the  faces 
melted  together  into  a  unit,  as  of  one  impressive,  pleading  man, 
and  I  felt   them    listening   when  I  could    hardly  see    them.      I 


jet.  23-57]       CHARACTERISTICS  815 

remember  this  accidental  day  as  one  of  the  times  when  the  sense 
of  the  privilege  of  having  to  do  with  people  as  their  preacher  came 
out  almost  overpower ingly.1 

It  may  have  been  this  same  day,  but  it  was  not  an  "acci- 
dental day,"  when  Mr.  Horace  E.  Scudder  was  present,  wit- 
nessing from  the  pew  what  Mr.  Brooks  experienced  in  the 
pulpit :  — 

The  solitary  pulpit  light  became  the  sole  illumination  of  the 
church.  Its  whole  flame  was  cast  upon  the  red  cushion  and  the 
side  of  Mr.  Brooks's  half  figure  and  face.  There  was  a  glow  of 
color  upon  the  speaker's  enkindled  visage.  All  the  church  was 
dark.  I  could  see  a  head  here  and  there  in  the  murkiness,  but 
that  intense  light  glowed  more  and  more  intensely.  The  dark- 
ness deepened  the  stillness,  and  the  voice  of  the  preacher,  grow- 
ing more  fervid  and  passionate,  came  full  and  strong  from  that 
central  glory  in  the  gloom.     It  was  the  apotheosis  of  the  pulpit.2 

Phillips  Brooks  would  occasionally  make  a  remark  in  con- 
versation which  told  more  about  himself  than  others  could 
tell.  Thus  he  said  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Deland,  who  treasured 
the  words  in  his  memory  as  full  of  meaning,  "I  say  many 
things  in  the  afternoon  which  I  should  never  think  of  saying 
in  the  morning." 

In  this  incomplete  sketch  of  the  characteristics  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  one  feature  of  the  man  is  left  to  be  described  in  his 
own  language,  with  this  brief  word  of  preface,  that  from  his 
youth  he  had  kept  himself  in  close  association  with  the  lives 
of  great  men.  The  following  extract  is  from  his  note-book, 
as  he  was  preparing  to  speak  in  Trinity  Church  on  Washing- 
ton's Birthday,  which  in  1891  fell  on  Sunday.  He  took 
for  his  text,  "Whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let  him 
be  your  minister :  "  — 

It  is  the  day  of  a  great  man  to-day.  This  kind  of  festival 
nobler  than  the  festival  of  an  event.  The  latter  is  the  presence 
of  God's  power,  the  former  a  presence  of  God  himself.  Great 
men  are  the  treasures  and  inspirations  of  the  nation.  Let  us 
think  this  morning  of  Great  Men ! 

The  vague  yet  certain  process  of  their  discrimination.      Let  us 

1  Lectures  on  Preaching,  p.  83. 

2  Cf .  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  December,  1877. 


816  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859-93 

admire  the  human  instinct !  No  one  can  tell  why  this  or  that 
one  stands  out,  but  he  does.  The  others  fade  away.  Luther, 
Cromwell,  Washington:  the  estimates  vary,  but  the  conclusion 
is  clear.  The  sense  of  accident  and  circumstance  comes  in;  the 
"mute,  inglorious  Milton"  theory;  the  subtle  proof  that  the 
other  man  is  greater.  Yet  still  the  element  of  timeliness  to  be 
regarded.  There  are  men  who  are  out  of  time;  the  need  of  get- 
ting a  little  distance  off  to  see  the  prominence  of  some,  to  catch  up 
with  others.  But  the  few  great  men  stand.  Others  sometimes 
added,  but  almost  never  is  one  extinguished.  Position  cannot 
make  or  disguise. 

The  question  whether  they  are  different  in  kind  or  in  degree 
from  other  men.  Both.  Difference  of  degree  becomes  difference 
in  kind.  It  is  an  affair  of  proportion  of  the  elements  of  life. 
The  simplicity  of  greatness ;  more  elemental,  more  free,  holding 
larger  conditions  in  harmony.  Comparison  of  a  great  city;  how 
different  its  life !     So  of  a  great  man. 

While  greatness  is  ordinarily  associated  with  prominence,  we 
recognize  its  quality  often  in  obscurity.  There  we  see  a  person 
who  has  these  two  conditions :  (1)  He  is  at  once  exceptional  and 
representative.  He  is  unlike  other  men,  and  at  the  same  time 
makes  a  revelation  of  them.  Thus  he  haunts  and  fascinates. 
The  moral  and  mental  united.  (2)  He  is  not  a  mere  expert, 
but  a  man ;  great,  not  in  some  special  skill,  but  as  a  being. 

But  enough  of  the  effort  to  define  greatness.  We  all  know  it. 
The  real  question  whence  it  comes.  Once  great  men  were  looked 
upon  like  meteors  dropped  out  of  the  sky;  now  as  if  they  grew 
out  of  the  ground,  expressing  its  fertility.  The  significance  of 
the  change.  The  greatest  men  make  greatness  possible  to  all. 
In  a  mysterious  way  it  is  we  who  did  these  things.  Vicarious- 
ness.  Personality  is  universal.  Shall  there  come  a  time  of  high 
average  with  no  great  men?     Surely  not.     They  shall  always  be. 

Great  men  of  the  future.  The  world  shall  choose  them  better. 
They  shall  better  know  their  places.  Great  men  have  not  found 
their  place,  though  they  are  always  feeling  after  it.  It  is  ser- 
vice. The  conceit  and  jealousy  of  dignity  must  pass  away. 
Who  is  greatest  ?  He  that  sitteth  at  meat  or  he  that  serveth  ? 
Christ's  appeal. 

Cultivate  reverence  for  Greatness.  Teach  it  to  your  children. 
Cultivate  perception  of  it.  The  double  blessing  of  pattern  and 
power. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
1891 

LENT  AT  TRINITY  CHURCH.  NOON  LECTURES  AT  ST.  PAUL'S. 
ELECTION  TO  THE  EPISCOPATE.  THE  CONTROVERSY  FOL- 
LOWING THE  ELECTION.  EXTRACTS  FROM  CORRESPOND- 
ENCE 

The  last  of  the  Lenten  ministrations  of  Phillips  Brooks  was 
the  most  impressive  of  all.  If  he  had  known  that  it  was  the 
last  Lent  he  was  to  keep  at  Trinity,  he  could  not  have  better 
expressed  the  mood  appropriate  to  such  a  moment.  The 
change  in  his  appearance,  indicated  in  one  of  his  photographs, 
where  humility  of  spirit  and  a  brooding  tenderness  and  solici- 
tude look  out  from  his  dark  and  somewhat  saddened  eyes, 
corresponds  with  a  certain  indescribable  quality,  which  per- 
vaded all  his  utterances.  A  brief  allusion  to  some  of  these 
Lenten  addresses  will  be  sufficient. 

The  subjects  of  the  lectures  to  the  Bible  class  on  Saturday 
evenings  were  the  larger  words  of  Scripture  and  of  life, 
Creation,  Preservation,  Inspiration,  Incarnation,  Redemp- 
tion, Sanctification,  Resurrection.  On  Friday  afternoons  he 
commented  on  the  Te  Deum,  bringing  out  the  sublime  mean- 
ing of  the  church's  greatest  hymn  till  the  grandeur,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  deeper  truth  of  the  poetic  interpretation  of 
life,  was  felt  by  all  who  listened.  On  Wednesday  evenings 
his  subjects  were  personal  utterances  of  Christ,  which  ex- 
pressed the  essential  meaning  of  life.  Thus  he  took  up  the 
words,  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt 
know  hereafter;"  "I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the 
life."  "Fear  not  them  which  kill  the  body,  but  are  not  able 
to  kill  the  soul." 

With  these  words  of  Christ  he  associated  the  utterances  of 

vol.  n 


818  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

great  men  in  Scripture :  the  words  of  David,  "  All  thy  works 
praise  thee,  O  Lord,  and  thy  saints  give  thanks  unto  Thee." 
"  The  only  real  praise  is  the  extension  of  the  glory  of  a  thing. 
Obedience  is  praise." 

For  the  distinctive  words  of  St.  Paul  he  took  the  passage 
in  Romans  v.  10,  11 :  "For  if  when  we  were  enemies  we  were 
reconciled  unto  God  by  the  death  of  His  Son,  much  more 
being  reconciled  we  shall  be  saved  by  His  life.  And  not 
only  so,  but  we  also  joy  in  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  by  whom  we  have  received  the  Atonement." 

These  were  representative  words  of  John  the  Baptist,  "  He 
must  increase,  but  I  must  decrease." 

The  inevitable  sadness  of  such  words,  and  yet  an  element  of 
gladness  in  them.  There  must  be  both,  because  they  are  great 
life- words.  Sadness  and  gladness  in  all  life.  There  is  here  the 
relief  of  pressure,  which,  however  the  pressure  has  been  rejoiced 
in,  is  welcome.     Another  takes  the  burden. 

This  word  of  Moses  is  different  from  the  words  of  Jesus, 
of  Paul,  John,  or  David:  "And  he  said  unto  him,  If  thy  pre- 
sence go  not  with  me,  carry  us  not  up  hence." 

It  has  the  strange  Covenant  figure  in  it.  It  makes  terms  with 
God,  but  it  is  the  full  tone  of  the  Old  Testament  which  craves 
God's  presence.  It  is  manly  and  vigorous.  If  it  sins  it  will 
face  its  sin  in  the  full  light.      Life  shall  mean  its  fullest. 

The  Lenten  sermons,  like  the  addresses,  dealt  profoundly 
with  the  consciousness  of  sin.  On  Ash  Wednesday,  the  text 
was,  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner;  "  on  Good  Friday  the 
text  was  this:  "And  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  His  Son 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." 

Blood  is  life.  But,  as  always  used,  it  is  given  life,  —  life 
made  manifest  in  being  given.  The  mystery  of  blood,  even  seen 
in  these  veins.  It  is  freely  shed  that  another  may  have  the  life 
I  have.  And  life  is  cleansing.  There  is  no  other  cleansing  than 
that  which  comes  by  life.      The  flowing  stream  grows  pure. 

Serious  and  solemn,  searching  to  the  last  degree,  were 
these  Lenten  addresses,  but  never  depressing,  and  every 
Friday   afternoon   came   the    elevating,    inspiring   tones    of 


xt.SS~]  ST.   PAUL'S   CHURCH  819 

the  comments  on  the  Te  Deum.  On  Fast  Day  (April  2) 
the  duty  was  urged  of  mingling  praise  and  hope  with  peni- 
tence.    "They  cannot  stand  alone,  they  make  one  man." 

The  sense  of  evil  in  life  does  not  deny  but  implies  the  noblest 
capacities  in  man.  It  is  because  he  is  great  and  strong  that 
he  is  wretched.  All  satire  must  keep  sight  of  man's  greatness. 
This,  then,  is  the  order:  a  glow  of  man's  greatness,  a  chafing 
at  man's  failure,  and  then  a  sweep  towards  man's  possibility. 

On  Easter  Day  this  was  the  text :  "  That  through  death  he 
might  destroy  him  that  had  the  power  of  death." 

He  was  born  that  he  might  die.  The  old  sad  story.  Can 
anything  be  sadder?  So  we  talk  to  each  other  in  our  darkest 
moods.  But  the  glory  of  Jesus  is  that  He  takes  our  old  despair- 
ing speeches  and  makes  them  glow.  The  dirge  becomes  a  paean. 
"I  am  born  that  I  may  die,"  becomes  a  cry  of  victory. 

In  the  course  of  this  Lenten  season  he  made  an  address 
every  Monday  at  twelve  o'clock  in  St.  Paul's  Church  on 
Tremont  Street.  A  placard  affixed  to  the  gate  of  the  church, 
announcing  that  the  services  were  "For  Men  Only,"  kept  the 
women  away,  and  the  men  took  possession.  Those  lectures 
were  a  new  revelation  of  the  power  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  the 
men  of  Boston,  and  its  suburbs.  They  are  still  talked  about 
when  people  are  recalling  his  memory.  He  was  at  his  great- 
est when  preaching  to  men,  young  men,  but  men  also  of  e very- 
age  and  calling.  He  could  by  his  imagination  take  the  out- 
look upon  life  of  the  average  man,  and  using  that  as  his  lev- 
erage he  addressed  them  with  a  tremendous  power,  such  as 
they  had  not  dreamed  of  as  in  the  possession  of  any  man.  In 
Boston,  as  in  New  York,  it  was  the  man  whose  spirit  was 
stirred  within  him  as  he  thought  of  the  danger  of  lost  oppor- 
tunities. He  had  once  written  —  it  was  in  his  "Lectures  on 
Preaching"  —  that  "the  thought  of  rescue  has  monopolized 
our  religion  and  often  crowded  out  the  thought  of  culture." 
But  he  would  not  have  written  that  sentence  now.  Every 
man  had  his  opportunity  to  develop  himself  to  the  utmost  as 
God  meant  him  to  be.  To  rouse  men  to  the  danger  of  losing 
that  opportunity  was  his  motive;  to  bring  them  to  the  recog- 
nition of  their  possibilities,  all  this  was  "rescue  work."     He 


820  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

did  not  preach  the  penalties  of  hell  as  the  alternative,  but  he 
made  men  feel  the  alternative  to  be  a  loss  unspeakably  sad 
and  fearful.  This  is  a  report  from  one  of  the  daily  news- 
papers which  will  apply  alike  to  each  one  of  those  memorable 
services : — 

It  was  a  large  and  thoroughly  interested  audience  that  con- 
fronted the  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks  in  St.  Paul's  Church  to-day  at 
noon.  All  the  seats  were  early  filled,  and  the  aisles  were  occu- 
pied with  eager  listeners  to  the  eloquent  words  that  fell  with 
marvellous  rapidity  from  the  lips  of  Boston's  great  pulpit  orator. 
The  men  who  thronged  the  church,  —  for  it  was  an  exclusively 
male  audience ;  the  ungallant  placard  outside,  "  For  Men  Only, " 
effectually  keeping  away  the  gentler  sex,  —  the  men  were  evi- 
dently from  the  business  walks  of  life,  little  accustomed  to  giving 
the  best  hours  of  the  day  to  religious  services,  and  the  preacher's 
remarks  were  addressed  to  just  that  class.  Nor  were  they  appar- 
ently accustomed  to  such  a  torrent  of  words  driven  home  with 
the  power  and  fervor  of  a  man  thoroughly  in  earnest.  Many 
seemed  almost  bewildered  and  dazed  at  what  must  have  appeared 
to  be  directed  at  themselves  as  individuals,  while  others  watched 
the  speaker  with  eyes  of  expectancy,  wondering  what  would  come 
next.  All  were  swept  along,  forgetful  of  their  surroundings,  by 
the  grandeur  of  his  presence,  the  impressive  sweep  of  his  hand, 
and  the  tremendous  power  of  his  utterance.  At  times  he  would 
straighten  himself  up,  throw  back  his  head,  and  in  the  most  dra- 
matic manner  picture  the  terrible  consequences  of  sin,  appealing 
to  his  hearers,  if  they  had  no  concern  for  themselves,  to  think 
of  those  who  might  be  looking  to  them  as  examples.  Then  their 
gaze  would  be  fixed  upon  him  as  though  magnetized,  and  the 
intensity  of  their  faces  would  be  almost  startling. 

The  addresses  of  Phillips  Brooks  during  Lent  at  St.  Paul's 
had  aroused  so  much  attention  that  the  secular  newspapers 
in  Boston  made  the  effort  to  report  them  in  full.  The 
"Churchman,"  of  New  York,  also  sent  its  special  reporter, 
assuming  that  it  might  have  the  same  privilege  as  the  secular 
press.  There  were  various  reasons  why  Mr.  Brooks  should 
object  to  the  publication  of  these  reports.  He  had  learned 
by  sore  experience  that  what  he  said  was  one  thing,  what 
others  thought  he  meant  might  be  quite  a  different  thing. 
Each  one  understood  him  according  to  personal  presupposi- 


jet.  ssl  UNION   SERVICE  821 

tions  with  which  he  might  or  might  not  be  in  sympathy. 
The  refinement  and  subtlety  of  his  mind,  working  in  con- 
junction with  his  large  spiritual  sympathies,  removed  him 
far  from  the  conventionalities  and  commonplaces  of  religious 
utterance,  and  yet  these  were  employed  almost  of  necessity 
in  making  a  report  for  others  of  what  he  had  said.  The 
case  was  a  difficult  one.  He  not  only  had  no  time  to  spend 
in  revising  his  addresses  for  publication,  but  such  a  task 
would  have  been  very  distasteful.  It  hampered  him  in  the 
freedom  of  the  pulpit  to  know  that  reporters  were  present 
who  were  not  sure  to  represent  his  thought.  For  these  reasons 
he  was  moved  to  make  another  vigorous  protest :  — 

March  21, 1891. 
Editor  of  the  "Churchman,"  —  I  wish  it  to  be  distinctly 
known,  and  I  beg  you  to  state  in  your  paper,  that  the  publication 
of  the  addresses  which  I  have  delivered  in  Boston  has  been  made 
by  you  without  any  revision  of  your  reports  by  me,  and  against 
my  wish  distinctly  and  repeatedly  expressed. 

Phillips  Brooks. 

There  was  an  event  connected  with  this  season  of  Lent 
which  it  is  important  to  chronicle,  —  a  union  service,  held  on 
the  evening  of  Good  Friday,  at  the  Old  South  Church. 
Mr.  Brooks  had  contemplated  such  a  service  in  the  year 
1890,  but  for  some  reason  the  plan  was  postponed.  In  this 
year,  when  the  plan  was  again  proposed,  he  acquiesced,  sug- 
gesting that  the  names  of  those  to  be  invited  should  repre- 
sent the  churches  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Copley  Square, 
—  Kev.  Samuel  Herrick  (Congregational),  Rev.  Brooke  Her- 
ford  (Unitarian),  Rev.  Leighton  Parks  (Episcopal),  Rev. 
P.  S.  Moxom  (Baptist),  together  with  the  pastor  of  the  Old 
South  Church,  Rev.  George  A.  Gordon.  Mr.  Moxom  was 
unable  to  be  present,  but,  with  this  exception,  the  above- 
mentioned  clergymen  united  with  Phillips  Brooks  in  a 
service  to  commemorate  the  death  of  the  Saviour  of  the 
world. 

The  following  interesting  letter  to  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine 
in  Europe  will  serve  to  continue  the  narration  for  the  earlier 
months  of  the  year :  — 


822  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

233  Clarendon  Stkeet,  Boston,  March  26, 1891. 
My  dear  Bob,  —  Don't  you  want  to  hear  a  word  from  me  at 
Easter  time  ?  To-morrow  is  Good  Friday,  and  this  week  is  slip- 
ping away  as  you  have  so  often  seen  it  go.  And  Sunday  will  be 
Easter  Day,  with  all  its  strange  uplifting  and  exhilaration.  It 
has  been  a  long,  hard  spring,  with  much  of  sickness  and  distress. 
In  the  middle  of  Lent  [March  9]  died  Bishop  Paddock,  after  a 
long  winter  of  bitter  suffering  and  patient  resignation.  It  has 
been  good  to  see  how  cordially  every  one  has  recognized  the  good- 
ness which  was  in  him,  and  how  the  praise  of  faithfulness  has 
come  at  once  to  everybody's  lips.  He  did  try  to  do  his  duty, 
and  he  wore  himself  out  in  doing  it,  and  he  will  be  remembered 
gratefully.  There  is  not  much  talk  yet  about  his  successor,  but 
the  Convention  meets  about  five  weeks  from  now,  and  then  he 
must  be  chosen.  I  have  no  idea  who  he  will  be,  perhaps  William 
Huntington,  perhaps  William  Lawrence.  Then  one  day  this 
week  I  buried  Mrs.  William  Lyman,  who  died  suddenly.  I  re- 
member the  old  days  in  Philadelphia,  when  we  lived  in  the  same 
boarding-house,  and  the  world  looked  very  large  ahead.  It  looks 
large  still,  but  the  going  on  of  one  after  another  whom  one  has 
been  accustomed  to  see  reminds  us  all  the  while  that  we  shall  not 
see  the  drama  of  the  world  played  out,  and  that  the  end  of  our 
share  in  it  all  cannot  be  very  far  away.  I  suppose  that  it  is 
some  impression  of  this  kind  that  has  worked  our  good  old  class 
up  to  the  desire  to  see  more  of  itself,  and  has  led  Tileston  and 
Willard  and  Jim  Reed  to  arrange  that  we  should  dine  together 
once  a  month  at  Parker's.  It  has  been  twice  that  we  have  done 
it  now;  on  the  first  occasion  there  were  twenty  of  us  there,  and 
on  the  second  occasion  fourteen.  Sanborn  did  most  of  the  talk- 
ing. Barlow  was  present  the  last  time,  and  did  his  share. 
There  is  some  wonder  about  how  long  the  thing  will  last.  I 
think  it  will  probably  settle  into  a  semi-annual  dinner,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort.  But  at  any  rate  it  shows  how  young  we  are, 
and  how  fresh  still  are  the  bright  days  of  our  youth.  I  saw 
Edith  and  John  the  other  day,  —  dined  with  them  in  the  old 
room  where  I  used  to  dine  with  you.  The  children  had  disap- 
peared for  the  night,  but  I  had  a  delightful  evening  with  their 
parents,  and  heard  the  last  news  from  Rome  as  it  was  seen 
through  Ethel's  bright  eyes.  By  this  time  you  are  deep  in  Italy, 
and  must  be  much  delighted  in  it.  Do  all  you  can  to  improve 
the  temper  and  habits  of  the  fiery  folk,  and  if  they  will  not  pro- 
mise to  behave  themselves  keep  them  at  home,  and  do  not  let 
them  come  to  murder  and  be  murdered  at  New  Orleans.  ...  In 
other  things  Trinity  Church  is  much  the  same  as  always.      Only 


jet.  55]  THE   EPISCOPATE  823 

our  music  goes  to  pieces  at  Easter.  Mr.  Parker  has  resigned, 
and  the  choir  goes  out  with  him,  so  that  the  western  end  of  the 
church  is  all  to  he  supplied  anew.  And  Heaven  knows  what  may 
come  to  us !  If  ever  anybody  was  a  baby  in  matters  where  he 
ought  to  be  a  man,  'tis  I!   .   .   .  P.  B. 

On  the  Sunday  after  Bishop  Paddock  died,  Phillips 
Brooks  preached  a  memorial  sermon  at  Trinity  Church: 
"Ye  are  witnesses,  and  God  also,  how  holily  and  justly  and 
unblanieably  we  behaved  ourselves  among  you  that  believe." 
With  these  words  for  his  text,  he  drew  the  portrait  of  the 
deceased  bishop,  narrating  the  simple  facts  of  his  life,  the 
excitement  at  his  election,  his  previous  good  repute,  espe- 
cially his  generous  attitude  shown  by  his  speech  at  General 
Convention  when  party  spirit  was  running  high.  "He  came 
here  a  stranger  in  these  parts.  Bass,  Parker,  Griswold, 
and  Eastburn  were  his  predecessors.  This  patient,  faithful 
person  differed  from  all.  He  was  not  so  much  a  leader  as 
the  creator  of  conditions  of  advance.  These  were  some  of 
his  characteristics: "  — 

His  simplicity.  Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  old  mighty 
prelate.  His  domestic  life.  His  personal  unobtrusiveness.  His 
absolute  Americanism.      His  genuine  goodness. 

His  absolute  faithfulness ;  patience  in  details.  Minute  care 
was  his  delight.  But  it  was  unsparing.  It  haunted  all  his 
work. 

His  fairness.  He  was  just,  trying  to  give  everybody  his 
rights ;  not  stepping  beyond  his  powers. 

This  was  the  secret  and  power  of  his  tolerance.  It  was  not 
so  much  sympathy  as  respect  for  right. 

And  here  came  in  his  wisdom.  It  was  the  desire  to  do  right. 
His  personal  advice.  His  preaching.  You  know  his  sermons : 
no  restlessness  of  intellect,  no  seeking  for  conceits ;  a  clear,  fixed 
path,  with  clear,  fixed  use  of  it  to  the  glory  of  God. 

This  brings  us  to  his  simple  piety.  Directness  of  that  ;  con- 
stant refinement  of  life.  The  soberness  of  it.  What  it  has 
opened  to  now.  The  testimony  which  he  bore  to  a  great  city : 
to  his  clergy  a  faithful  friend ;  to  the  Church  a  solid  life  to  build 
on ;  to  the  world  a  pressure  against  evil. 

The  nomination  of  Phillips  Brooks  for  the  vacant  episco- 
pate was  immediate  and  spontaneous.     But  it  differed  from 


824  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

the  ordinary  nomination  in  that  it  came  first  from  the  peo- 
ple. The  friends  of  Mr.  Brooks,  those  who  stood  in  closest 
relation  to  him,  had  no  part  or  lot  in  the  original  sugges- 
tion, or  its  furtherance,.  To  this  remark  there  is  one  excep- 
tion, —  this  letter  sent  to  him  as  soon  as  the  vacancy  was 
known :  — 

My  dear  Brooks,  — A  very  serious  word  this  time,  and  no 
answer  required. 

Just  think  of  what  you  are  doing!  Just  think  of  your  amaz- 
ing, overpowering,  ever  growing,  ever  widening  influence!  Such 
a  gift,  so  Heaven  sent,  and  so  discouraging  to  those  of  us  who 
have  only  the  fractional  part  of  a  talent  to  spend  for  the  Master! 
You  must  leave  yourself  in  your  friends'  hands  now  about  this 
vacant  diocese,  and  not  seek  to  anticipate  Providence,  or  to  set 
it  aside,  as  if  it  did  not  know  what  was  best.  "It  shall  be  given 
to  those  of  whom  it  is  prepared  by  my  Father."  Leadership  is 
prepared :  to  sit  on  the  throne  is  not  ours  to  give  or  to  refuse. 
Heed  this  lesson  and  just  be  silent  for  a  little  space. 

Your  old  friend 


From  the  time  that  Bishop  Paddock  died  there  was  fre- 
quent reference  in  the  Boston  newspapers  to  Phillips  Brooks 
as  the  most  fitting  candidate  for  the  vacant  office.  Two  of 
the  leading  papers,  the  "Advertiser"  and  the  "Herald," 
advocated  his  election.  The  diocesan  convention  did  not 
meet  until  April  29,  and  in  the  intervening  weeks  there  were 
constant  communications  from  those  who  were  interested, 
the  tenor  of  which  varied:  some  maintaining  that  he  would 
not  accept  the  office,  others  that  it  would  not  be  right  to 
take  him  from  Trinity  Church,  where  his  influence  was  al- 
ready greater  than  it  would  be  in  the  episcopate ;  and  there 
were  those  who  thought  that  he  lacked  the  executive  capacity 
needed  for  the  administration  of  a  large  diocese.  But  now 
also  began  to  be  heard  insinuations  that  he  was  not  loyal  to 
the  Episcopal  Church,  that  he  did  not  believe  its  doctrines, 
that  he  rejected  the  miraculous  element  in  creeds  and  Scrip- 
ture, and  that  at  heart  he  was  a  Unitarian.  The  prevailing 
opinion  grew  rapidly  stronger  that  he  was  the  natural  candi- 
date, and  among  those  who  knew  him  the  insinuation  against 


jet.  55]  THE   EPISCOPATE  825 

his  honor  and  his  honesty  was  met  with  indignant  denial. 
But  during  these  weeks  there  was  no  such  process  as  "elec- 
tioneering" in  his  behalf.  His  friends  had  agreed  not  to 
mention  the  matter  to  him  until  the  spontaneous  movement 
in  his  favor  should  have  gained  momentum.  So  many  let- 
ters, however,  were  published  opposing  his  election  on  the 
assumption  that  he  would  not  accept  the  office,  that  his 
friends  felt  it  necessary  to  get  from  him  an  authoritative 
statement. 

On  April  2  [writes  one  who  stood  closest  to  him],  a  few  weeks 
before  the  meeting  of  the  diocesan  convention,  it  was  my  privi- 
lege to  learn  his  views  in  a  conversation  which  he  himself  opened 
by  saying:  "Why  have  none  of  you  spoken  to  me  about  the  Bish- 
opric? The  newspapers  are  full  of  it;  why  are  all  my  friends 
so  silent  ?  "  I  replied  that  it  was  because  in  our  ignorance  of  his 
wishes,  we  thought  it  wiser  to  allow  the  matter  to  come  before 
him  for  his  decision  when  he  should  be  elected,  as  we  hoped  he 
would  be  by  a  large  majority.  He  answered,  "Why  should  I 
decline?  Who  would  not  accept  such  a  great  opportunity  for 
usefulness,  such  an  enlargement  of  his  ministry  ?  "  At  my  re- 
quest he  then  authorized  all  who  desired  his  election  to  say  that 
he  would  accept  the  office  if  offered  to  him.  This,  I  think,  was 
the  first  time  that  he  had  an  opportunity  for  making  such  a  state- 
ment. On  April  5  the  Boston  "Transcript "  published  a  letter 
of  mine,  in  which  some  absurd  objections  to  his  election  were 
met,  and  which  closed  with  these  words:  "Those  of  Dr.  Brooks's 
friends  who  now  know  his  views  on  the  matter  feel  certain  that 
he  will  accept  the  office  of  Bishop  if  elected  to  it,  not  because 
he  seeks  its  honors,  but  because  his  loyalty  to  the  diocese  will  not 
permit  him  to  refuse  its  call  to  so  enlarged  an  opportunity  for 
serving  Christ  and  the  Church." 

The  Boston  "Transcript,"  which  had  hitherto  opposed  the 
movement  on  the  ground  that  it  would  be  "unwise  to  take 
him  out  of  his  present  commanding  position,  and  make  him 
simply  a  public  functionary,"  now  advocated  his  election  :  — 

The  position  which  he  holds  at  Trinity  Church  is  unique,  and 
the  feeling  which  we  have  expressed  respecting  his  giving  up  the 
rectorship  of  Trinity  is  deep  and  strong,  and  is  almost  universal 
in  this  community.  But  if  Dr.  Brooks  thinks  that  the  Episcopal 
office  will  not  restrain  him  in  his  work,  and  the  people  of  Trinity 


826  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

are  willing  to  give  him  up,  we  are  free  to  say  that  he  will  carry 
into  the  office  of  a  hishop  important  qualities  which  are  too  often 
lacking  in  our  American  bishops.  ...  If  Phillips  Brooks  is 
elevated  to  this  position,  we  shall  certainly  have  a  leader  in  the 
Episcopal  Church  who  is  not  more  in  union  with  his  own  people 
than  he  is  in  touch  with  other  Christian  families,  and  who  is  in 
sympathy  with  the  whole  range  of  our  public  life.  .  .  .  What 
is  needed  in  this  community,  if  the  Episcopal  Church  is  to  he- 
come  thoroughly  assimilated  to  our  New  England  life,  is  that 
somebody  shall  lift  up  the  Episcopal  office,  so  that  if  there  is  any 
virtue  in  a  bishop,  our  citizens  may  be  able  to  discover  it.  .  .  . 
We  are  not,  of  course,  in  the  counsels  of  churchmen,  nor  practi- 
cally concerned  with  questions  of  high  or  broad  church,  and  we 
have  no  right  to  go  further  than  the  friendly  discussion  of  the 
matter;  but  we  are  ready  to  agree  that  the  election  of  Dr. 
Brooks,  although  as  we  have  said  a  certain  loss  to  the  general 
community  and  a  certain  sacrifice  for  himself,  would  be  the  means 
of  putting  the  Episcopal  Church  in  a  more  favorable  and  influen- 
tial position  than  it  has  hitherto  occupied  in  New  England ;  and 
that  as  a  matter  of  large-minded  policy  and  Christian  statesman- 
ship his  election  ought  to  be  favored  by  all  churchmen,  no  matter 
what  their  special  opinions  may  be. 

There  is  evident  in  the  foregoing  extract  that  sense  of 
public  proprietorship  in  Phillips  Brooks  which  had  appeared 
so  strongly  when  he  was  called  to  Harvard,  and  had  only 
increased  with  the  years  that  had  since  elapsed.  This  feel- 
ing was  apparent  in  editorial  remarks  in  the  "Advertiser" 
and  the  "Herald,"  and  was  rapidly  extending  outside  of 
New  England.  There  were  some  in  the  Episcopal  Church 
who  resented  it  as  an  intrusion,  as  though  outside  influences 
were  brought  to  bear  upon  a  question  which  it  concerned 
only  the  Episcopal  Church  to  determine.  But  it  was  natu- 
ral, it  was  spontaneous  and  inevitable.  It  was  the  case  of 
a  man  whom  no  ecclesiastical  body  could  appropriate  as 
exclusively  its  own.  As  Phillips  Brooks  had  risen  above 
denominational  and  religious  barriers,  by  the  force  of  his 
religious  genius,  so,  too,  had  he  transcended  the  barriers 
which  separate  church  and  state,  until  they  seemed  to  flow 
together  in  one  organic  life,  as  in  the  days  of  the  ancient 
theocracy  in  New  England,  when  every  Christian  man  was  a 


mt.  55]  CONGRATULATIONS  827 

freeman,  and  entitled  to  be  heard  on  questions  of  the  com- 
mon weal.  The  world  within  or  without  the  church  was 
recognizing  the  time  of  its  visitation.  It  was  wisdom  to  ac- 
cept the  situation.  So  it  was,  then,  that  the  secular  press 
seemed  to  have  become  religious,  the  gulf  between  the  secu- 
lar and  the  religious  was  bridged.  If  one  now  wished  to 
address  the  religious  world,  it  could  be  done  most  effectively 
by  the  secular  newspaper.  This  became  more  apparent  in 
the  weeks  that  followed. 

The  diocesan  convention  met  on  the  29th  of  April,  and  on 
the  following  day  Phillips  Brooks  was  elected  bishop  on  the 
first  ballot  by  a  large  majority  of  the  clergy  and  a  still  larger 
majority  of  the  laity.  It  was  a  personal  election,  where  party 
lines  ceased  to  be  closely  drawn.  There  were  those  who  voted 
for  him  who  were  not  in  sympathy  with  his  ecclesiastical  atti- 
tude, and  others  voted  against  him,  who  were  at  one  with  his 
purpose,  but  did  not  wish  that  he  should  be  taken  from  Trinity 
Church,  where  his  fame  had  been  won.  But  however  it  was, 
the  enthusiasm  over  the  election  was  unbounded.  If  the 
vote  had  been  taken  again,  it  would  have  been  well-nigh 
unanimous,  for  many  of  those  who  had  voted  adversely  were 
rejoiced  at  the  result.  It  was  a  strange  scene.  Dr.  Brooks 
was  not  present  at  the  convention,  remaining  at  home  in  the 
house  on  Clarendon  Street.  As  soon  as  the  result  of  the 
election  was  known,  there  was  a  rush  from  the  hall  where  the 
convention  was  sitting,  an  eager  rivalry  to  be  the  first  in  con- 
veying to  him  congratulations.  He  is  remembered  as  he  stood 
in  his  study  to  receive  those  who  came,  sharing  somewhat  in 
the  excitement,  it  must  have  been,  yet  not  showing  it,  tender- 
ness inexhaustible  written  in  his  face,  the  large  eyes  filled 
with  emotion,  and  not  without  a  plaintive  sadness,  with  a 
welcome  extended  to  all  alike,  knowing  no  discrimination,  a 
prophecy  of  the  bishop  he  was  to  be.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
convention  had  transferred  itself  to  the  rectory  of  Trinity 
Church,  there  were  so  many  who  wished  him  well. 

The  rejoicing  in  the  land  was  so  deep,  so  widespread,  so 
universal,  that  the  occasion  seemed  like  some  high  festival 
whose  octave  was  prolonged  in  order  that  the  full  harvest  of 


828  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

congratulations  might  be  gathered  in.  The  multitude  of  his 
friends  wrote  to  him,  and  their  name  was  legion,  expressing 
their  joy.  All  took  it  for  granted  that  the  event  meant  the 
expansion  of  his  influence  to  imperial  proportions.  It  was 
assumed  that  the  great  day  of  Christian  unity  was  to  be 
ushered  in  by  the  enlargement  of  his  power.  It  was  "  a  per- 
fect storm  of  congratulations,"  said  one  who  was  watching  the 
scene.  There  had  been  other  events  in  the  life  of  Phillips 
Brooks  which  had  called  out  the  popular  applause,  but  this 
excelled  them  all.  It  was  a  day  of  personal  rejoicing,  as 
though  each  individual  friend  or  admirer  had  been  honored 
in  the  honor  which  had  come  to  him.  There  was  a  strange 
disclosure  here  of  his  hold  upon  human  souls,  as  well  as  upon 
the  community  at  large. 

We  may  look  for  a  moment  at  a  few  of  the  more  repre- 
sentative expressions  of  the  moment.  They  are  a  handful 
selected  from  a  thousand  similar  ones.  "  I  have  just  heard 
the  glorious  news  of  your  election."  "  It  is  one  of  the  most 
encouraging  events  that  has  happened  in  the  church  for 
years."  "  I  cannot  but  feel,"  wrote  one  of  his  early  parish- 
ioners in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Philadelphia,  "  a  sort  of 
reflected  honor  on  our  own  little  Advent,  and  my  heart  is  full 
of  eager  joy."  They  recalled  also  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent,  where  the  first  discovery  of  his  power  had  been 
made,  that  one  of  the  vestry  had  prophesied  that  he  would 
be  a  bishop.  From  a  friend  in  Philadelphia  came  these 
words :  — 

The  gratification  felt  here  over  your  election  is  unparalleled.  I 
never  saw  anything  like  it.  And  those  who  knew  you  best  have 
no  words  to  express  their  joy.  All  our  newspapers  have  had 
editorials  on  your  election. 

The  colored  people,  who  had  never  ceased  to  remember  his 
interest  in  their  behalf,  spoke  through  one  of  their  represent- 
atives :  "  The  negroes  of  the  South  rejoice  with  me  in  wish- 
ing you  joy."  A  citizen  of  Boston  who  knew  the  city  well 
writes:  "Beautiful  thoughts  are  thought  of  you  in  Boston, 
glorious  things  are  said  of  you,  and  the  noblest  expectations 
cherished."     "  Since  your  election  my  heart  has  been  singing 


jet.  55]  CHRISTIAN  UNITY  829 

the  'Nunc  Dlmittis'  and  the  ' Benedictus.' "  Those  who 
differed  from  him  theologically  told  him  of  the  benefit  they 
had  received,  how  "  his  words  had  been  good  and  true  and 
wise." 

Into  the  great  flood  of  congratulations  there  poured  the 
streams  from  tributaries  so  numerous  that  all  cannot  be  men- 
tioned. Some  of  the  letters  from  the  bishops  who  congratu- 
lated him,  and  it  was  relatively  a  large  number  of  them  who 
hastened  to  express  their  gratification,  recognize  the  unique 
element  in  the  situation :  "  No  bishop  of  the  American 
Church  was  ever  called  to  his  high  office  with  such  acclaim." 
Heads  of  universities  and  colleges,  the  most  important  and 
representative,  wrote  as  if  they  were  included  in  the  universal 
benediction.  Resolutions  were  sent  from  the  students  of  the- 
ological seminaries  of  every  name,  from  the  institutions  of 
learning  with  which  he  had  been  connected.  The  friends 
of  early  years  and  of  later  took  advantage  of  their  privilege. 
If  we  attempt  to  generalize  on  this  amazing  display  of  per- 
sonal devotion,  it  might  be  said  that  all  were  inspired  by  a 
feeling  that  the  moment  had  come  when  those  who  recog- 
nized his  work,  whether  they  knew  him  or  not,  had  the  right 
for  once  to  speak,  and  express  their  deepest  feeling  to 
Phillips  Brooks. 

There  was  abundant  recognition  from  his  own  household 
of  faith,  vastly  more  than  he  could  have  imagined  was  pos- 
sible. But  what  came  to  him  from  the  most  representa- 
tive men  in  other  religious  communions  was  significant 
and  impressive.  A  distinguished  Congregational  clergy- 
man wrote :  "  The  event  means  a  great  deal  for  all  our 
churches ; "  and  another  reminded  him  of  the  many  thou- 
sands whom  he  did  not  know,  who  were  praying  for  him, 
and  asking  for  him  "life  and  health  in  order  to  do  some 
great  work."  A  prominent  layman  of  the  Congregational 
Church  wrote :  — 

I  want  to  add  my  voice  to  the  general  Laus  Deo,  Deus  vobis- 
cum.  I  am  so  thankful  you  are  elected  bishop,  not  of  Massachu- 
setts, but  of  the  Church  Universal.  All  of  us  who  share  in  your 
scholarly   liberality,    of   all   denominations,    will   call   you    our 


830  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

bishop.     May  God  make  you  Bishop  of  all  souls,  and  may  all 
humble  and  good  men  love  and  honor  you  more  and  more ! 

A  representative  Methodist  clergyman  writes  to  him,  "  I 
am  now  ready  to  intone  '  Te  Deum  Laudamus.' "  An  emi- 
nent lawyer,  Unitarian  in  his  religious  faith  writes :  "  It  is, 
indeed,  a  fine  thing  when  a  great  body  of  Christians  puts  at 
its  head  one  whom  all  Christians  will  gladly  follow."  A  Uni- 
versalist  divine  and  prominent  educator :  — 

I  do  not  so  much  rejoice  in  the  immense  forward  movement 
that  Episcopalianism  has  made  in  your  election,  though  I  trust  I 
am  broad  enough  not  to  be  indifferent  to  that,  as  I  do  in  the  gain 
that  has  come,  and  that  is  sure  to  come  more  and  more,  to  our 
common  Christianity  ?  In  this  feeling  I  know  that  I  voice  the 
general  sentiment  of  clergy  and  laity  alike  of  the  entire  Univer- 
salist  Church. 

To  the  letters  must  be  added  the  well-nigh  universal  tribute 
from  the  newspapers  throughout  the  country.  The  editorial 
tone  is  one  of  rejoicing  because  in  some  way  he  will  now 
be  a  "  universal  bishop."  We  get  here  a  strange  light  upon 
the  process  by  which  in  the  ancient  church  the  claims  of  a 
bishop,  whether  of  Constantinople  or  of  Rome,  to  universal 
supremacy  found  an  echo  in  the  popular  heart.  There  was 
some  vast  mysterious  yearning  in  the  soul  of  the  common  hu- 
manity for  leadership,  and  this  instinct  had  fastened  upon 
Phillips  Brooks  as  adequate  to  the  demand.  These  are  the 
words  of  the  Boston  "  Daily  Advertiser,"  but  they  were  repre- 
sentative words  of  the  American  press  :  — 

The  election  of  Bishop  Brooks  means,  first  of  all,  a  new  inspi- 
ration in  every  parish  in  the  State.  Next,  it  means  an  upward 
and  onward  movement  in  living  faith  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  land.  It  means  that  people  of  all  religions  and 
of  no  religion,  within  the  boundaries  of  this  diocese,  will  especially 
share  in  the  blessings  of  this  glad  event,  the  former  as  feeling 
an  influence  too  large  for  narrow  limits,  the  latter  as  persuasively 
drawn  by  golden  cords  of  eloquence  and  example  toward  better 
things  than  they  have  known.  The  election  of  Bishop  Brooks 
means  that  there  is  to  be  not  only  a  bishop  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  in  Massachusetts,  but,  in  some  genuine  and 
complete  sense,  a  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 


jet.  55]  CONGRATULATIONS  831 

The  late  James  Russell  Lowell  gave  brief  but  emphatic 
utterance  to  the  same  feeling :  — 

Elmwood,  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  May  1, 1891. 
Dear  Doctor  Brooks,  —  Though  I  do  not  belong  to  the  flock 
which  will  be  guided  with  your  crook,  I  cannot  help  writing  a 
line  to  say  how  proud  I  am  of  our  bishop. 

Faithfully  yours,  J.  R.  Lowell. 

The  vote  of  Trinity  Church  had  been  cast  by  Mr.  Martin 
Brimmer,  representing  the  delegation  in  the  convention,  who 
also  wrote  to  Dr.  Brooks  on  the  day  of  the  election :  — 

It  fell  to  me  this  morning  to  put  into  the  ballot  box  the  vote 
of  Trinity  Church  for  you  as  Bishop.  I  am  sure  that  in  doing 
this  I  represented  the  feeling  of  the  Parish,  —  the  feeling,  on  the 
one  hand,  of  deep  regret  that  your  election  must  sever,  not,  we 
hope,  all  connection  between  you  and  Trinity,  but  certainly  the 
close  and  continuous  connection  which  has  been  of  such  unspeak- 
able value  to  all  of  us ;  the  feeling,  on  the  other  hand,  that  this 
regret  must  give  way  before  the  assurance  that  you  are  now  to 
move  forward  into  a  service  which  those  qualified  to  judge  deem 
more  important  as  well  as  of  wider  range.  ...  I  think  your 
parishioners  fully  recognize  the  great  significance  and  value  of 
this  act  of  the  diocese  to  the  whole  Church  in  America. 

This  letter  may  be  taken  as  representing  the  feeling  of 
Trinity  Church  expressed  in  the  many  letters  from  its  parish- 
ioners. From  the  moment  of  the  election,  there  had  sprung 
up  a  hope  that  he  might  yet  in  some  way  be  retained  in  offi- 
cial relationship  to  his  old  parish,  possibly  make  the  church 
his  cathedral,  or  be  the  nominal  rector,  with  an  assistant 
minister,  as  in  the  case  of  Bishop  Eastburn.  But  he  was  not 
to  be  allowed  to  sever  his  relationship  with  the  parish,  in 
any  degree,  without  another  confession  to  him,  in  the  unveil- 
ing of  sacred  experiences,  of  all  that  he  had  been  to  his  people. 

There  were  other  important  interests  from  whose  point  of 
view  his  election  carried  a  mingled  feeling  of  regret.  Presi- 
dent Eliot  wrote :  — 

We  owe  you  more  than  I  can  tell  for  your  constant  support  of  the 
new  methods  of  Chapel  administration.  .  .  .  Voluntary  prayers 
would  not  have  come  when  they  did  in  1886  if  you  had  not  ex- 
erted your  influence   in  the  Overseers  in  favor  of  the  change. 


832  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

Without  you  the  plan  of  having  five  preachers  to  the  University 
would  not  have  looked  so  promising  in  anticipation,  and  would 
not  have  succeeded  so  well  in  actual  use.  .  .  .  Your  prayers  and 
addresses  in  the  Chapel  have  heen  of  infinite  use,  not  only  in  the 
hearts  and  lives  of  the  listeners,  but  also  in  establishing  the  Uni- 
versity religious  services  on  a  broad  and  firm  foundation.   .    .   . 

I  shall  certainly  count  on  your  continued  interest  in  all  our 
work  and  particularly  in  the  Chapel  work.  I  hope  that  you  will 
be  this  year  reelected  to  the  Board  of  Overseers,  so  that  you  may 
again  have  a  voice  in  all  University  affairs. 

President  Warren,  of  Boston  University,  sent  congratula- 
tions, but  as  he  reviewed  the  services  of  Phillips  Brooks  to 
the  institution  over  which  he  presided,  he  knew  that  they 
could  not  in  the  future  be  rendered  so  fully.  He  could  only 
acquiesce,  and  say,  "  The  Lord's  will  be  done."  There  were 
many  other  institutions,  also,  whose  representatives  realized 
and  expressed  a  sense  of  loss  in  the  impending  change. 
There  were  a  few  who  still  thought  and  said  that  the  place  of 
Phillips  Brooks  was  in  his  metropolitan  church,  "  in  the  pul- 
pit as  the  presbyter's  throne,"  expressing  their  misgivings 
lest  he  "  sacrifice  the  larger  for  the  less ;  "  but  the  almost 
uniform  conviction  in  this  "  avalanche  of  letters  "  was  the 
greater  work  to  which  he  had  been  called,  and  the  duty  in- 
cumbent on  him  to  accept  it. 

This  account  of  how  the  election  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  the 
episcopate  was  received  represents  the  situation  imperfectly. 
The  whole  story  of  the  surprise  and  the  joy  cannot  be  told. 
The  amount  of  the  material  is  too  vast  to  do  more  than  give 
its  salient  features.  The  event  corresponds  to  the  process  of 
a  people's  canonization  of  some  heaven-sent  man.  But  when 
the  honors  of  canonization  were  in  question,  it  was  customary 
to  hear  the  other  side,  in  order  that  all  which  might  be  said 
against  a  man  should  be  considered.  That  moment  had  now 
come,  and  come  for  the  first  time,  in  a  public  way  in  the  life 
of  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  process  of  making  a  bishop  in  the  American  Episcopal 
Church  is  more  complicated  than  in  the  Church  of  England. 
After  the  election  has  taken  place  the  secretary  of  the  diocese 
sends  word  of  the  election  to  the  standing  committee  in  each 


jet.  ssl  THE  CONTROVERSY  833 

diocese  in  the  United  States,  and  also  to  the  presiding  bishop. 
As  soon  as  the  presiding  bishop  has  received  a  reply  from 
the  majority  of  the  standing  committees  in  the  affirmative,  he 
communicates  the  fact  to  the  bishops  and  calls  for  their  vote. 
When  he  has  received  a  majority  of  favorable  replies  from 
the  bishops,  the  bishop-elect  has  been  confirmed  and  the 
order  is  given  for  his  consecration.  The  process  is  generally 
a  formal  one,  occupying  a  month  or  six  weeks  before  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  result.  In  the  case  of  Phillips  Brooks  ten 
weeks  elapsed  before  the  confirmation  of  his  election  was 
made  known.  From  one  point  of  view  the  controversy  which 
now  took  place  over  his  election  was  not  important,  nor  were 
the  sources  influential  or  representative  from  which  it  pro- 
ceeded ;  but  their  importance  was  rather  a  reflected  one, 
gaining  significance  from  the  unique  greatness  of  the  man. 
So  sensitive  was  the  public  mind  in  everything  relating  to 
him  that  the  slightest  hint  of  opposition  was  magnified  till  it 
assumed  unnatural  proportions.  From  another  point  of  view 
it  appeared  to  some  as  if  the  Episcopal  Church  had  been 
called  to  go  through  a  crisis  in  its  history.  What  the  nature 
of  that  crisis  was  will  appear  as  the  features  of  the  opposition 
to  his  election  are  described. 

In  order  to  the  intelligent  action  of  the  standing  commit- 
tees and  bishops  of  the  various  dioceses,  the  canons  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  require  that  testimonials  shall  be  laid 
before  them,  certifying  to  the  fitness  and  character  of  the 
bishop-elect.  In  this  case  the  following  statement  was  signed 
by  more  than  one  hundred  of  the  clergy  of  the  diocese  of 
Massachusetts,  and  by  a  large  number  of  the  laity,  more  than 
two  hundred  names  in  all :  — 

We,  whose  names  are  underwritten,  fully  sensible  how  impor- 
tant it  is  that  the  sacred  office  of  a  Bishop  should  not  be  unwor- 
thily conferred,  and  firmly  persuaded  that  it  is  our  duty  to  bear 
testimony  on  this  solemn  occasion,  without  partiality  or  affection, 
do,  in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God,  testify  that  Phillips  Brooks 
is  not,  so  far  as  we  are  informed,  justly  liable  to  evil  report, 
either  for  error  in  religion,  or  for  viciousness  in  life ;  and  that 
we  do  not  know  or  believe  there  is  any  impediment  on  account  of 

vol.  n 


834  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

which  he  ought  not  to  he  consecrated  to  that  Holy  Office.  We  do, 
moreover,  jointly  and  severally  declare  that  we  do,  in  our  con- 
science, believe  him  to  be  of  such  sufficiency  in  good  learning, 
such  soundness  in  the  faith,  and  of  such  virtuous  and  pure  man- 
ners, and  godly  conversation,  that  he  is  apt  and  meet  to  exercise 
the  office  of  a  Bishop  to  the  honor  of  God  and  the  edifying  of  His 
Church,  and  to  be  a  wholesome  example  to  the  flock  of  Christ. 

The  natural  presumption  would  be  that  those  who  appended 
their  names  to  such  a  testimonial  were  conversant  with  the 
situation  and  knew  whereof  they  affirmed.  To  counterbal- 
ance or  overthrow  such  testimony  would  require  evidence  of 
a  positive  character,  well  substantiated,  that  the  bishop-elect 
was  not  fitted  for  the  office.  What  should  be  the  nature  of 
such  evidence  and  how  should  it  be  obtained  ?  There  was  an 
anomaly  revealed  at  t"his  point  in  the  organization  of  the 
Episcopal  Church.  Was  it  the  function  of  a  standing  com- 
mittee to  receive  and  register  such  a  testimonial  and  give  their 
approval  as  a  matter  of  form,  or  was  it  incumbent  on  them  to 
act  as  judges  in  the  matter,  reopen  the  question,  and  decide 
for  themselves  on  some  extra  information  they  could  obtain  ? 
The  first  alternative  seemed  to  make  their  action  a  perfunc- 
tory mechanical  one,  but  the  second  carried  the  implication 
that  the  clergy  and  laity  of  the  diocese  most  interested  were 
incapable,  for  whatever  reason,  to  form  a  right  and  trust- 
worthy judgment.  If  the  latter  interpretation  were  to  pre- 
vail, there  was  danger  of  grave  disturbance,  imperilling  the 
constitution  of  the  church.  The  older  and  larger  dioceses, 
where  traditions  were  well  established,  followed  the  latter 
alternative.  As  to  the  final  result,  those  who  knew  best  the 
Episcopal  Church  had  no  misgivings.  Their  faith  in  its  re- 
served wisdom,  its  justice,  its  comprehensiveness,  and  its  free- 
dom from  doctrinaire  tendencies  gave  them  absolute  confi- 
dence. Such  also  was  the  conviction  of  Dr.  Brooks,  —  there 
was  no  doubt  whatever  of  the  confirmation  of  his  election. 
To  the  efforts  made  to  defeat  it  we  now  turn. 

Hardly  then  had  the  election  been  made  when  a  statement 
appeared  in  the  newspapers  gaining  wide  circulation,  that 
there  was  likely  to  be  opposition  among  the  bishops.     Dr. 


jet.  55]  THE   CONTROVERSY  835 

Brooks,  it  was  said,  had  expressed  his  disbelief  in  the  historic 
episcopate,  and  as  the  bishops  held  strong  convictions  on  that 
point  they  could  not  admit  to  their  number  one  who  differed 
from  them.  This  statement  in  the  newspapers  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  a  leaflet  with  the  headline,  "  Ought  Dr.  Brooks  to 
be  Confirmed  ?  "  which  was  sent  to  bishops  and  standing  com- 
mittees, containing  quotations  from  his  sermons  to  the  effect 
that  he  denied  the  doctrine  of  apostolical  succession.  An- 
other leaflet  was  issued,  also  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  were 
to  vote  intelligently  on  the  question,  giving  the  opinion  of  a 
Roman  Catholic  priest,  formerly  a  Baptist  minister,  who,  being 
"  interviewed  "  on  the  subject,  had  spoken  of  Dr.  Brooks  as 
"  One  of  Nature's  Noblemen,"  but  when  asked  his  opinion  in 
regard  to  the  propriety  of  his  becoming  a  bishop,  shook  his 
head  and  seemed  quite  disheartened  about  the  Episcopal 
Church.     His  words  were  quoted  in  the  leaflet  as  follows  :  — 

I  regret  to  say  they  [the  present  movements  in  the  Episcopal 
Church]  indicate  that  the  Episcopal  Church  is  yielding  to  the 
rationalistic  and  agnostic  tendencies  of  the  age  to  a  deplorable 
extent.  ...  If  its  creeds  and  articles  of  faith  no  longer  bind 
its  clergy  and  people,  the  surging  tide  of  infidelity  will  soon  de- 
stroy its  distinctive  character  as  an  organized  and  conservative 
form  of  Christianity. 

A  circular  was  sent  to  bishops  and  standing  committees, 
addressed  "  To  Whom  it  May  Concern,"  containing  an  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  the  name  of  whose  writer  was  suppressed. 
In  this  letter  there  was  given  the  report  of  a  conversation 
with  Dr.  Brooks,  —  a  report  from  memory  with  no  vouchers 
beyond  the  presumed  respectability  of  the  anonymous  writer, 
—  and  the  impression  made  by  the  conversation  had  con- 
vinced the  writer  that  Dr.  Brooks  was  a  most  unfit  man  to 
be  a  bishop  as  he  deemed  the  miracle  to  be  unimportant  and 
in  the  life  of  Christ  unessential.  "  He  will  let  everybody 
stand  on  their  head  if  they  want  to,  and  avow  that  no  doc- 
trine is  essential,  not  even  the  essential  one  of  the  Trinity 
and  the  divine  Incarnation."  This  circular,  sent  forth  by 
a  presbyter  of  New  York,  who  signed  his  name,  but  with- 
held that  of  the  writer  of  the  letter,  produced  as  its  chief 


836  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

result  eagerness  to  know  the  name  of  the  person  who  had 
borne  such  astounding  testimony.  With  the  facilities  pos- 
sessed by  the  modern  newspaper  it  could  not  be  long  before 
the  information  was  obtained.  The  unknown  writer  was 
finally  discovered  in  seclusion  in  the  remote  West,  in  "  my 
solitary  and  supposed  to  be  inaccessible  mountain  home,  where 
I  am  seeking  retirement  in  mystic  study  and  divine  commun- 
ion." This  person,  when  discovered,  admitted  full  knowledge 
of  the  effects  of  the  communication  to  the  public  made  in 
the  circular,  and  was  inclined  to  regret  "  the  possible  epoch- 
making  consequences "  of  "  a  personal  letter,"  though  in- 
clined to  acquiesce,  should  the  Divine  Will  choose  the  "  weak 
things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  mighty."  But  after  re- 
flection there  had  been  some  change  of  mind,  and  in  another 
letter  addressed  to  the  public,  the  same  person,  while  reaf- 
firming the  correctness  of  the  report  of  the  conversation  with 
Dr.  Brooks,  now  withdrew  the  charge  that  he  was  unfit  to  be 
made  a  bishop,  and  urged  upon  the  Episcopal  Church  his 
confirmation,  expressing  the  hope  that  the  Church  woidd  be 
"  large  enough  and  Christly  enough  to  welcome  him  to  her 
highest  office." 

A  rumor  also  gained  wide  circulation  among  the  bishops 
and  standing  committees  that  the  Nicene  Creed  was  not  re- 
cited at  Trinity  Church.  It  was  easy  to  follow  it  with  a 
denial  without  asking  the  aid  of  Dr.  Brooks.  These  were 
among  the  influences  brought  to  bear  upon  those  who  were 
seeking  the  additional  light  needed  in  weighing  the  question 
of  the  confirmation  of  the  bishop-elect.  They  became  familiar 
also  to  the  public  who  were  watching  the  issue. 

Another  phase  of  the  movement  to  defeat  the  election  was 
the  effort  to  induce  Dr.  Brooks  to  explain  or  to  apologize  for 
his  attitude.  Thus  one  of  the  bishops  sent  to  him  an  "  open  let- 
ter," saying  that  the  participation  "  in  the  so-called  ordination 
services  of  Mr.  Beecher's  successor  in  Brooklyn  required  in  the 
judgment  of  many  honest  minds  an  explanation  or  expression 
of  regret,  .  .  .  assurances  that  what  has  pained  so  many  of  his 
brethren  will  not  occur  again."  Another  bishop  wrote  to  him 
after  receiving  these  various  communications,  leaflets,  etc. :  — 


jet.  55]  THE   CONTROVERSY  837 

Before  you  were  admitted  to  Deacons'  Orders,  you  subscribed 
the  following  declaration:  "I  do  believe  the  Holy  Scriptures  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments  to  be  the  Word  of  God,  and  to  con- 
tain all  things  necessary  to  salvation,  and  I  do  solemnly  engage 
to  conform  to  the  Doctrines  and  Worship  of  the  Protestant  Epis- 
copal Church  in  the  United  States."  Do  you  stand  to  that  sub- 
scription, and  are  you  willing  to  make  the  same  subscription 
now?" 

Is  it  true  that  on  the  last,  or  on  any  Good  Friday,  you  united 
with  a  Unitarian  minister  in  conducting  public  religious  services  ? 
.  .  .  On  the  absurd  subject  of  apostolic  succession,  I  entirely 
agree  with  you. 

Representatives  of  a  large  number  of  dioceses  wrote  to  Dr. 
Brooks,  expressing  their  contempt  at  the  course  adopted  to 
defeat  him.  But  from  a  few  dioceses  came  letters  indicating 
that  reports  and  circulars  had  not  been  without  their  influence. 
Thus  a  clergyman  writes  to  him  asking  for  answers  to  the 
following  questions,  in  order  to  an  intelligent  vote  :  — 

(1)  Do  you  believe  in  the  Divinity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  He  is  God  of  God,  Light  of  Light,  very  God  of  very  God, 
Begotten  not  made,  Being  of  one  substance  with  the  Father,  By 
whom  all  things  were  made ;  who  for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation 
came  down  from  heaven,  and  was  incarnate  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  was  made  man  ? 

(2)  Do  you  believe  that  an  Unitarian  who  denies  all  this,  dying 
as  an  Unitarian,  could  be  consistently  with  the  above  belief  char- 
acterized as  God's  true  saint  and  one  of  the  best  and  noblest 
Christians  ? 

(3)  Please  state  what  is  necessary  to  make  a  true  Christian. 

(4)  Do  you  believe  that  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  alone 
represents,  in  its  integrity  and  purity  in  the  United  States  of 
America,  Christ's  Holy  Catholic  Church? 

(5)  Do  you  believe  that  the  Apostolic  Succession  is  an  essential 
and  exclusive  element  to  Christ's  ministry? 

(6)  Do  you  believe  that  episcopally  ordained  clergy  alone  have 
the  right  to  exercise  Christ's  ministry,  —  to  Baptize,  to  admin- 
ister the  Holy  Communion,  to  Pronounce  God's  declaration  of 
absolution  over  repentant  sinners,  and  to  preach  the  Gospel  ? 

(7)  Do  you  believe  that  the  Protestant  sects  in  the  United 
States  constitute  the  American  Church,  and  that  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  is  no  more  a  Church  than  any  of  these  sects 
and  has  no  more  right  to  that  title  than  any  of  them  ? 


838  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

These  questions  were  evidently  intended  to  be  exhaustive 
and  to  leave  no  loophole  of  escape.  Beneath  all  other  ques- 
tions or  doubts  lay  the  issue  of  apostolic  succession.  Thus  a 
layman,  who  represents  also  a  standing  committee,  writes, 
*'  My  questions  are  these :  "  — 

Do  you  consider  that  Apostolic  Succession  is  indispensably  neces- 
sary to  the  existence  of  Christ's  Church? 

In  your  opinion,  have  the  faithful  followers  of  a  Protestant 
creed  which  ignores  the  Succession  an  equal  warrant  with  faithful 
Episcopalians  in  expecting,  in  the  future  life,  the  reward  promised 
to  the  righteous  ? 

There  appeared  in  the  New  York  "  Tribune,"  on  June  1, 
a  letter  from  the  Rev.  John  Henry  Hopkins,  which  gave  ex- 
pression to  the  growing  feeling  of  indignation.  The  letter 
was  specially  significant  as  coming  from  Dr.  Hopkins.  A 
few  extracts  from  it  follow :  — 

Our  Church  is  a  comprehensive  Church;  and  that  means  that 
there  is  room  in  her  communion  for  a  great  variety  of  opinions 
on  religious  matters.  We  have  three  well-known  parties,  High, 
Low,  and  Broad.  I  am  a  High  Churchman,  —  about  as  high  as 
they  make  them.  Had  I  been  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts 
convention,  I  should  never,  under  any  circumstances,  have  voted 
for  Dr.  Brooks.  But  when  he  had  been  elected  I  should  have 
signed  his  testimonials  with  pleasure,  rejoicing  in  the  elevation 
of  one  who  is  recognized  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  as 
a  preacher  now  without  a  living  superior,  and  whose  high-toned, 
stainless  life  is  acknowledged  by  all.  As  long  as  any  one  of  our 
dioceses  wants  a  Broad  Church  bishop  or  a  Low  Church  bishop,  it 
has  a  right  to  him;  and  the  requiring  of  the  consents  of  the 
standing  committees  and  a  majority  of  the  bishops  was  never 
meant  to  give  power  to  a  majority  to  squeeze  out  a  minority  by 
refusing  to  let  them  have  the  kind  of  bishop  they  wanted.  .  .  . 
To  try  now  to  return  to  a  narrower  basis  in  order  to  worry  the 
most  distinguished  bishop-elect  whom  the  American  Church  has 
ever  known  is  all  nonsense. 

When  asked  for  "explanations,"  etc.,  I  am  delighted  that  Dr. 
Brooks  had  none  to  give.  No  bishop-elect  ought  ever  to  give 
any.  If  he  can  honestly  make  the  answers  put  in  his  mouth  at 
the  time  of  his  consecration,  it  is  enough.  The  Church  gives  to 
no  man  the  right  to  put  to  him  any  question  beyond  that.  Espe- 
cially is  it  uncalled  for  in  a  case  like  that  of  Dr.  Brooks,  volumes 


jet.  55]  THE  CONTROVERSY  839 

of  whose  sermons  are  in  print.  Anonymous  letters  should  he 
treated,  in  such  a  matter  as  this,  with  perfect  contempt,  —  and 
all  are  anonymous  whose  writers  are  not  named  and  known.  .  .  . 
Especially  is  this  the  case  when  these  anonymous  writers  display 
such  abysmal  ignorance  of  the  very  points  in  theology  which  they 
try  to  handle. 

Many  other  similar  protests  were  published.  The  "  Church- 
man," the  largest  and  most  influential  paper  in  the  Episcopal 
Church,  devoted  its  editorial  columns  each  week  to  making 
the  issue  clear,  that  standing  committees  and  bishops,  admit- 
ting that  they  are  without  intimate  knowledge  of  the  man 
against  whom  they  are  such  swift  witnesses,  are  yet  practi- 
cally asking 

the  Church  to  take  their  lack  of  knowledge  as  ground  for  reject- 
ing one  of  the  most  eminent  presbyters  whom  the  Church  has  ever 
had,  in  preference  to  the  unquestionable  knowledge  and  the  sol- 
emnly asseverated  conviction  of  154  clergymen  and  109  repre- 
sentatives of  the  communicants  of  the  diocese  of  Massachusetts, 
among  whom  Dr.  Brooks  has  gone  in  and  out  these  many  years. 

That  the  various  misrepresentations  had  confused  the 
public  mind  to  some  extent  might  be  inferred  from  the  delay 
of  the  standing  committees  in  recording  their  votes.  But  the 
number  of  those  whose  votes  were  adverse  were  relatively 
few,  and  in  the  case  of  most  of  the  dioceses  voting  in  the 
pegative  there  came  a  protest  to  Dr.  Brooks  from  some  of  the 
prominent  clergy  or  laity  in  them,  to  the  effect  that  the  vote 
was  not  representative  of  the  best  sentiment.  The  election 
had  taken  place  April  30,  and  by  June  4  it  was  known  that 
a  majority  of  votes  had  been  cast  in  favor  of  the  bishop-elect. 
The  question  then  went  before  the  bishops  for  their  approval, 
and  there  followed  a  period  of  painful  suspense,  for  the 
bishops  voted  in  secrecy,  and  no  one  knew,  unless  the  bishops 
chose  to  tell,  how  the  vote  had  been  given.  Not  until  a 
majority  of  their  votes  had  been  cast  would  the  result  be  an- 
nounced to  the  world.  The  presiding  bishop,  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Dr.  Williams,  of  Connecticut,  was  an  admirer  and  firm  friend 
of  the  bishop-elect,  doing  what  he  could  to  further  his  con- 
firmation.    He  was  known  as  the  most  learned  man  in  the 


840  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

House  of  Bishops,  familiar  with  Anglican  traditions,  desirous 
to  promote  the  interests  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  He  was 
wise  and  conservative  as  a  churchman,  —  a  High  Churchman, 
he  was  called,  —  not  wholly  in  sympathy  with  the  attitude  of 
Dr.  Brooks ;  but  he  knew  how  wide  were  the  bounds  of  the 
church,  and  how  strange  and  unjustifiable  the  agencies  em- 
ployed to  defeat  the  election.  He  did  what  he  could.  He 
sustained  Dr.  Brooks  in  his  policy  of  silence,  maintaining 
that  it  was  not  becoming  he  should  give  any  reply  to  the 
solicitations  made  to  him  to  speak.  Bishop  Williams  was 
also  hopeful,  and  had  no  doubt  of  the  result,  anticipating  that 
by  the  middle  of  June  he  should  be  able  to  announce  that  the 
election  had  been  approved  by  the  bishops. 

Hitherto,  it  had  been  mainly  for  the  reason  that  Dr. 
Brooks  did  not  hold  the  doctrine  of  apostolical  succession  that 
he  was  condemned  as  unfit  for  the  episcopate.  But  it  now 
became  known  that  a  change  had  taken  place  in  the  attitude 
of  those  who  were  resisting  the  confirmation.  Charges 
were  made  and  reiterated  that  he  denied  the  articles  of  the 
Christian  faith,  or  was  at  least  indifferent  to  them.  A  cir- 
cular letter,  it  was  known,  had  been  sent  to  the  bishops,  say- 
ing in  substance  that  a  crisis  had  been  reached  in  the  history 
of  the  church,  that  the  question  included  not  only  the  apos- 
tolical succession,  but  the  essential  divinity  of  Christ.  It  was 
a  question,  therefore,  of  maintaining  the  faith  pure  and  unde- 
filed,  and  no  one  could  forecast  the  "  horrible  consequences  " 
if  a  major  number  of  the  bishops  were  to  confirm  the  elec- 
tion. Some  of  the  bishops,  friends  of  Dr.  Brooks,  were  now 
alarmed  and  even  besought  him  to  break  his  silence  and 
assure  the  church  that  he  believed  in  the  Incarnation. 
Among  the  bishops  there  was  one  who  did  not  know  Phillips 
Brooks  and  was  unfamiliar  with  his  writings,  but  at  once 
secured  his  sermons,  and  having  read  them  voted  for  his  con- 
firmation. Why  was  not  this  the  case  with  all?  Phillips 
Brooks  was  somewhat  voluminous  as  an  author,  having  pub- 
lished five  volumes  of  sermons  and  three  volumes  of  lectures. 
It  would  have  been  a  simple  task  to  turn  to  his  books  and 
read  there  his  replies  to  the  interrogations  propounded  to 


iET.  ssl  THE  CONTROVERSY  841 

him.  Before  attempting  the  answer  to  this  question  it  may 
be  as  well  to  bring  together  the  accusations  against  him,  those 
urged  at  this  time  as  well  as  at  a  later  moment. 

(1)  It  was  said  that  he  was  in  some  sort  a  Congregation- 
alist,  not  in  sympathy  with  the  polity  of  the  Episcopal 
Church.  But  this  could  not  be  true.  He  believed  that  bish- 
ops were  necessary  to  the  well-being  of  a  church,  and  the 
Congregationalist  believes  that  they  are  not  necessary,  and  so 
discards  them. 

(2)  It  was  alleged  that  he  was  an  Arian  in  his  theology. 
But  Phillips  Brooks  —  the  evidence  has  been  given  abun- 
dantly —  believed  in  the  Incarnation  of  God  in  Christ,  which 
Arius  rejected.  Phillips  Brooks  believed  that  Christ  as  the 
Eternal  Son  was  coequal  with  the  Father  and  of  the  same 
essence,  and  this  was  what  Arius  denied.  Phillips  Brooks 
also  accepted  the  full  humanity  of  Christ,  a  truth  which 
Arius  did  not  hold.  Phillips  Brooks  was  Athanasian  in  his 
theology.  Indeed  since  the  days  of  Athanasius,  there  had 
been  no  one  who  held  the  doctrine  of  the  person  of  Christ 
in  the  spirit  of  Athanasius  more  firmly  than  he. 

(3)  He  was  accused  of  being  a  Pelagian.  But  the  root 
error  of  Pelagianism  lay  in  holding,  so  all  historians  of 
Christian  doctrine  agree  in  affirming,  that  God  had  endowed 
man  sufficiently  in  his  constitution  that  he  could  work  out  his 
salvation  by  himself,  and  did  not  need  the  special  Divine 
presence  and  aid.  Phillips  Brooks  was  an  Augustinian  in 
the  emphasis  which  he  laid  upon  the  necessity  of  the  Divine 
assistance  or  grace  in  order  to  every  good  deed  or  thought. 
One  may  find  it  anywhere  in  his  sermons.  Such  a  sentence 
as  this  gives  the  very  essence  of  the  theology  of  Phillips 
Brooks :  "  Every  activity  of  ours  answers  to  some  previous 
activity  of  God."  Dr.  Brooks  also  believed  both  in  the 
letter  and  the  spirit  of  Article  IX.,  of  the  Thirty-Nine  Arti- 
cles, which  condemns  the  Pelagian  teaching  in  regard  to 
Original  Sin.  He  did  not  believe  in  "  Total  Depravity,"  but 
this  the  article  does  not  assert.  What  it  does  assert  he 
believed  and  preached  with  power,  that  "man  is  very  Jar  gone 
(quam  longissime)  from  original  righteousness."    He  had 


842  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

always  before  him  the  antagonism  in  the  human  soul,  even  as 
Augustine  felt  it,  which  constitutes  the  issue  of  every  life. 

In  one  respect  he  agreed  with  Pelagius ;  he  held  to  the  free- 
dom of  the  human  will.  But  if  he  is  to  be  accounted  a  Pela- 
gian and  a  heretic  on  that  ground,  the  large  majority  of 
bishops  and  presbyters  in  the  Anglican  Church  since  the 
seventeenth  century  come  under  the  same  condemnation. 

But  it  was  said  he  was  a  Pelagian  because  he  taught  that 
"  all  men  are  the  children  of  God."  Many  things  have  been 
attributed  to  Pelagius  which  he  never  said,  but  this  was  the 
first  time  that  he  has  been  accused  of  holding  this  doctrine. 
It  would  be  nearer  the  truth  to  affirm  that  Pelagius  held  that 
no  man  was  the  child  of  God.  Beneath  all  the  errors  of  Pela- 
gius lay  the  dreary  conviction  of  the  orphanage  of  humanity. 
The  fatherhood  of  God  and  the  sonship  of  humanity  found  no 
place  in  his  teaching.1 

Throughout  this  trying  period,  from  the  time  of  his  election 
to  his  consecration,  and  afterwards,  Phillips  Brooks  remained 
consistently  silent,  explaining  nothing,  giving  no  answers  to 
define  his  position,  making  no  apologies,  no  pledges. 

I  have  been  for  thirty-two  years  a  minister  of  the  Church  [so 
he  wrote,  June  3,  1891,  in  reply  to  one  of  his  questioners],  and 
I  have  used  her  services  joyfully  and  without  complaint.  I  have 
preached  in  many  places,  and  with  the  utmost  freedom.  I  have 
written  and  published  many  volumes,  which  I  have  no  right  to 
ask  anybody  to  read,  but  which  will  give  to  any  one  who  chooses 
to  read  them  clear  understanding  of  my  way  of  thinking.  My 
acts  have  never  been  concealed. 

1  "  The  essence  of  Pelagianlsm,  the  key  to  its  whole  mode  of  thought,  lies 
in  this  proposition  of  Julian,  homo  lxbe.ro  arbitrio  emancipates  a  deo ;  man 
created  free  is  with  his  whole  sphere  independent  of  God.  He  has  no  longer 
to  do  with  God,  but  with  himself  alone.  God  only  reenters  at  the  end  (at  the 
judgment)."  Cf.  Harnack,  History  of  Dogma  (Eng.  Tr.),  vol.  v.  p.  200.  While 
the  contrast  to  this  attitude,  and  indeed  the  strong  opposition  to  it,  is  apparent 
everywhere  in  the  writings  of  Phillips  Brooks,  the  following  references  may 
be  of  service  to  any  one  wishing  to  pursue  the  subject :  Sermons,  vol.  ii.  pp. 
285..  286 ;  vol.  iii.  pp.  112-133 ;  vol.  iv.  pp.  60-75,  173-191 ;  vol.  v.  pp.  40-56  ; 
vol.  vi.  pp.  90-106 ;  vol.  viii.  p.  79.  See,  also,  Commentary  on  Philippians,  by 
Bishop  Lightfoot,  p.  181 :  "  According  to  the  Christian  idea,  every  member  of 
the  human  family  was  potentially  a  member  of  the  Church,  and  as  such  a  priest 
of  God." 


alt.  55]  THE  CONTROVERSY  843 

Under  these  circumstances,  I  cannot  think  it  well  to  make  any 
utterance  of  faith  or  pledge  of  purpose  at  the  present  time. 
Certainly  I  made  none  to  my  brethren  here,  when  they  chose  me 
to  be  their  bishop,  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  will  think 
I  am  right  in  making  none  now,  when  the  election  is  passing  to 
its  final  stages. 

This  letter  was  written  before  the  announcement  had  been 
made  of  the  vote  of  the  standing  committees,  when  the  pop- 
ular anxiety  about  the  result  was  manifesting  itself  in  many 
ways.  As  the  nature  of  the  opposition  to  his  election  is  now 
before  us,  we  may  at  this  point  consider  the  question  at  issue 
in  some  of  its  more  important  bearings. 

Those  who  were  resisting  the  admission  of  Phillips  Brooks 
to  the  episcopate  found  difficulty  in  understanding  his  posi- 
tion. When  he  first  came  to  Boston,  then,  as  it  always  had 
been,  a  theological  centre,  the  same  difficulty  had  been  en- 
countered. People,  as  we  have  seen,  were  asking  about  his 
opinions  on  theological  questions,  seeking  to  classify  him  in 
conventional  ways.  The  difficulty  lay  here,  —  those  who 
were  questioning  his  attitude  were  preoccupied  with  theolo- 
gical tenets,  the  theology  of  the  intellect,  and  he  was  thinking 
of  life,  as  holding  not  only  the  intellect  in  solution,  but  the 
heart  and  conscience.  While  others  were  thinking  about 
formulas  and  how  best  by  dialectic  the  formula  could  be  de- 
fended, he  was  translating  the  formula  into  terms  of  life, 
prizing  the  formula  indeed,  not  as  an  end  in  itself,  but  a 
means  to  a  greater  end.  He  was  protesting,  too,  by  this  very 
feature  of  his  work,  against  what  seemed  to  him  a  pseudo- 
intellectualism  which,  by  identifying  Christianity  with  dogma, 
was  allowing  to  escape  its  inmost  essence.  He  was  aware 
that  those  whose  standard  was  the  verbal  formula  as  the 
flag  by  which  a  man  was  to  be  known  had  difficulty  in  defin- 
ing his  attitude.  He  did  what  he  could  to  reassure  them, 
going  out  of  his  way  on  every  representative  occasion  when 
he  was  called  to  speak,  in  order  to  affirm  and  reaffirm,  to 
reiterate  even  to  weariness,  that  the  advance  of  the  church, 
or  the  progress  in  theology,  did  not  mean  the  abandon- 
ment of  the  venerated  formulas  of  Christendom,  but  rather 


844  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

their  retention  in  some  deeper,  more  intelligent  way,  by 
setting  forth  their  relation  to  the  spiritual  or  religious  life. 
He  had  succeeded  in  Boston,  and  wherever  he  was  well  known, 
in  making  his  position  clear. 

But  there  was  another  difficulty  experienced  by  those 
who  now  for  the  first  time  were  endeavoring  to  understand 
his  position.  The  obstacle  they  encountered  when  looking  at 
him  from  the  conventional  dogmatic  point  of  view  may  be 
illustrated  by  supposing  that  he  had  broken  his  silence  in  re- 
sponse to  the  strenuous  requests.  Had  he  affirmed  his  belief 
in  the  doctrines  he  was  suspected  of  denying,  or  had  he 
pointed  to  the  many  places  in  his  writings  which  contained 
these  affirmations,  we  can  easily  understand  how  this  would 
not  have  satisfied  his  questioners.  When  he  had  given  his 
answer,  there  would  have  been  another  question  ready  for 
him :  How  is  it  that  believing  these  things,  as  you  say  you 
do,  you  could  have  taken  part  in  the  ordination  of  a  Congre- 
gational minister ;  or,  as  to  matters  of  doctrine,  how  could 
you  have  allowed  Unitarians  to  come  to  the  Lord's  Supper, 
or  how  could  you  have  taken  part  in  any  religious  service 
where  they  were  present,  or  have  spoken  as  you  did,  in  the 
pulpit  of  Trinity  Church,  about  an  eminent  Unitarian  min- 
ister ?  Do  you  not  see  that  your  acts  contradict  your  words, 
taking  all  meaning  out  of  your  language,  so  that  you  stand 
convicted  by  deeds  which  speak  louder  than  words  ? 

Phillips  Brooks  had  already  anticipated  this  difficulty  in 
his  very  significant  book  on  Tolerance.  His  opponents  as- 
sumed that  tolerance  was  based  on  doctrinal  indifference  or 
laxity.  He  had  written  his  book  to  show  that  true  tolerance 
should  rest  upon  a  deeper  conviction  of  the  truth.  There  is 
no  evidence  that  his  antagonists  turned  to  this  book  in  order 
to  understand  his  position.  They  accepted  the  principle 
which  he  rejected  as  unworthy,  and  from  that  point  of  view 
launched  their  opposition. 

It  must  be  admitted,  then,  that  there  was  a  crisis  here,  and 
a  grave  one,  in  the  history  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  in  which 
also  all  the  churches  had  a  vital  interest.  The  theology  of 
Phillips  Brooks  and  his  life-work  came  to  a  focus  at  this 


jet.  ss~]  THE  CONTROVERSY  845 

point.  Every  one  knew  and  felt,  whether  they  could  trace  it 
or  not,  that  Phillips  Brooks  stood  for  some  momentous  issue 
in  the  history  of  Christianity  and  of  religion,  that  he  could 
not  have  accomplished  his  great  work  had  there  not  been 
beneath  it  some  profound  and  far-reaching  adjustment  of 
essential  principles.  In  the  foregoing  chapters  the  effort  has 
been  made  to  show  what  that  adjustment  was.  Once  more, 
and  finally,  let  the  resume  be  given.  Beneath  the  life  of  the 
church,  whether  in  its  present  or  its  historical  manifestations, 
beneath  its  doctrine,  its  ethics,  its  worship,  is  the  personality 
of  Christ  as  living  force  and  inspiration.  All  truth  must 
come  to  the  world  through  personality.  "  Learning  and 
thought  and  idea  must  be  mediated  by  character,  of  which 
the  essence  is  will,  and,  thus  transmuted  into  power,  be 
brought  to  bear  on  life."  In  one  of  his  latest  addresses 
(1890)  he  had  said :  — 

And  what  is  another  question  that  is  before  us  perpetually  ?  It 
is  the  question  of  the  separation  of  dogma  and  life.  Men  are 
driven  foolishly  to  say  on  the  one  side  that  dogma  is  everything, 
and  on  the  other,  that  life  is  everything.  As  if  there  could  be  any 
life  that  did  not  spring  out  of  truth!  As  if  there  could  be  any 
truth  that  was  really  felt  that  did  not  manifest  itself  in  life!  It 
is  not  by  doctrine  becoming  less  earnest  in  filling  itself  with  all 
the  purity  of  God.  It  is  only  by  both  dogma  and  life,  doctrine 
and  life,  becoming  vitalized  through  and  through,  that  they  shall 
reach  after  and  find  one  another.  Only  when  things  are  alive  do 
they  reach  out  for  the  fulness  of  their  life  and  claim  that  which 
belongs  to  them. 

Had  he  taken  one  side  or  other  of  the  controversy  he  would 
have  been  more  easily  understood.  Difficult  also  was  it  for 
many  to  understand  his  position,  illustrated  in  preaching  and 
in  practice,  that  the  claims  of  charity  or  love  were  higher 
than  those  of  faith  or  hope ;  or  again  his  definition  of  a 
Christian  man,  —  "  one  who  follows  Christ  in  grateful  love 
and  obedience ;  "  or  still  again,  his  conception  of  tolerance,  — 
that  fellowship  with  those  of  opposing  religious  opinions  does 
not  imply  indifference  to  the  formulas  of  Christian  doctrine, 
but  rather  a  deeper  conviction  of  their  value. 

There  was  danger,  then,  of  his  being  engulfed  in  the  tragic 


846  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

experience  of  life  which  awaits  those  who  rise  above  conven- 
tional standards.  It  was  as  in  the  time  of  Christ,  when 
Samaritans  and  publicans  were  to  orthodox  Judaism  what  the 
Protestant  sects  are  to  modern  "Catholic"  ecclesiasticism. 
When  Christ  associated  with  Samaritans,  He  was  reminded 
that  the  orthodox  respectable  Jews  had  no  dealings  with  them. 
When  He  sat  down  to  eat  with  publicans  and  sinners,  the 
principle  was  applied  to  Him,  that  "  a  man  is  known  by  the 
company  he  keeps."  One  of  the  most  impressive  of  Phillips 
Brooks's  sermons  was  on  the  words  of  Christ  to  the  woman 
of  Samaria :  "  The  hour  cometh,  when  ye  shall  neither  in  this 
mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem,  worship  the  Father,  when  the 
true  worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in 
truth."  To  such  a  moment  Phillips  Brooks  looked  forward 
as  the  completion  and  the  glory  of  the  Christian  church. 
Such  was  the  final  issue  to  which  his  life  had  brought  him. 
Holding  this  attitude,  would  his  election  as  the  Bishop  of 
Massachusetts  be  confirmed  ? 

It  had  been  expected  that  by  the  middle  of  June  the  an- 
nouncement would  be  made  of  the  vote  of  the  bishops  Two 
weeks  passed,  and  still  the  votes  were  so  slow  in  coming  in 
that  by  the  1st  of  July  a  sufficient  number  had  not  been  re- 
corded. Hitherto  those  who  knew,  or  thought  they  knew,  the 
Episcopal  Church  had  felt  no  serious  misgivings.  But  now 
the  anxiety  among  the  friends  of  Phillips  Brooks  became,  as 
they  expressed  it,  "terrible,"  while  they  forecast  what  his 
defeat  would  mean,  not  only  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  but 
to  all  the  churches.  Again  and  again  he  was  appealed 
to,  urged  to  say  a  few  simple  words  which  would  quiet  the 
agitation. 

I  had  often  begged  him  [says  Bishop  Clark,  in  a  memorial 
sermon]  to  say  a  word  or  two,  or  to  allow  me  to  do  it  for  him, 
which  I  knew  would  greatly  relieve  the  minds  of  some  honest 
people,  who  did  not  understand  his  position,  and  his  uniform 
reply  in  substance  was,  "I  will  never  say  a  word,  or  allow  you  to 
say  a  word,  in  vindication  or  explanation  of  my  position.  1  stand 
upon  my  record,  and  by  that  record  I  will  stand  or  fall  I  have 
said  what  I  think  and  believe  in  my  public  utterances  and  in  my 


jbt.  SSI  THE   CONTROVERSY  847 

printed  discourses,  and  have  nothing  to  retract  or  qualify."  And 
bo  through  the  whole  of  the  trying  campaign  of  his  election  to  the 
episcopate  his  mouth  was  closed. 

From  July  1  to  July  10  the  suspense  continued.  On 
the  last-named  day,  the  presiding  bishop  telegraphed  to  the 
"  Churchman  "  that  the  election  had  been  confirmed  by  a  ma- 
jority of  the  bishops,  and  to  the  same  effect  to  the  bishop- 
elect.  Then  the  congratulations  poured  in  once  more  upon 
him,  and  there  went  up  a  shout  of  jubilation  all  over  the 
country.  The  confirmation  of  the  election  had  been  delayed 
too  long.  From  some  points  of  view  it  may  have  been  wise 
to  delay  it,  considering  the  misconceptions  and  uncertainties 
in  the  minds  of  his  opponents ;  it  showed  that  the  bishops 
were  taking  no  hasty  action,  but  deliberating  solemnly  on  the 
issues  involved.  However  it  may  have  been,  the  sense  of 
relief  from  suspense,  the  consciousness  of  escape  from  some 
great  calamity  to  the  cause  of  true  religion,  the  conviction  of 
a  great  deliverance,  and  a  victory  for  all  that  was  highest  and 
most  essential  to  the  spiritual  life  and  to  the  common  human- 
ity, —  these  moods  found  expression  in  the  tide  of  joy  that 
swept  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other :  "  Sing  unto  the 
Lord,  for  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously."  But  upon  this 
aspect  of  the  subject  we  need  not  dwell  or  attempt  to  depict 
the  satisfaction,  the  deep  inward  congratulation,  of  those  who 
again  in  large  numbers  wrote  to  the  bishop-elect  to  express 
their  joy.  One  event  may  be  mentioned  which  is  representa- 
tive of  the  situation.  Among  the  bishops  who  had  favored 
the  confirmation  of  the  election  was  the  Bishop  of  Albany, 
who,  while  not  in  agreement  with  Phillips  Brooks  in  matters 
of  opinion,  yet  believed  that  the  Episcopal  Church  was  large 
enough  to  hold  him.  The  scene  in  the  little  church  at  North- 
east Harbor,  Maine,  on  July  12,  is  thus  described  in  a  letter 
to  the  bishop-elect  by  a  clergyman  who  was  present :  — 

My  dear  Brooks,  —  I  had  a  great  comfort  and  happiness  to- 
day. In  church,  Bishop  Doane,  with  a  few  graceful  words,  an- 
nounced that  the  news  of  your  confirmation  had  just  reached  him, 
and  he  asked  us  to  join  in  that  prayer  in  the  service  for  the  Con- 
secration of  Bishops,   "Most  merciful  Father,  we  beseech  Thee  to 


848  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

send  down  upon  Thy  servant  Phillips  Brooks  Thy  heavenly  bless- 
ing,"  etc.  I  never  joined  in  a  prayer  with  more  fervor,  nor 
thanked  God  more  devoutly  that  a  great  suspense  was  over.  .  .  . 
I  was  glad  enough  that  our  Church  is  broad  enough  to  hold  you 

and .      I  agree  with  neither,  but  what  difference  does  that 

make  ?     Accept  my  hearty  congratulations,  and  believe  me, 

Very  sincerely  yours,  . 

Of  the  two  following  passages,  the  first  is  an  extract  from 
a  private  letter  written  by  one  prominent  in  the  religious 
world,  and  the  other  from  an  editorial  in  a  Boston  news- 
paper :  — 

The  persistent  maintenance  of  your  spiritual  equanimity  and 
Christian  temper  have  won  for  you  the  hearts  of  thousands  of 
God's  people  everywhere,  during  your  recent  persecution. 

The  Episcopal  Church  in  this  diocese  emerges  from  its  hour  of 
doubt  upon  heights  which  command  a  wide  unbroken  horizon  of 
human  Christian  fellowship. 

One  other  circumstance  remains  to  be  mentioned  illustrat- 
ing the  attitude  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  the  long  controversy. 
Even  among  those  who  voted  for  his  confirmation  there  were 
some  who  were  troubled  with  doubts  as  to  the  validity  of  his 
baptism.  Now  that  he  was  free  to  speak  without  compromis- 
ing his  dignity,  he  was  asked  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  of 
quieting  scruples  to  submit  to  what  is  known  as  "  hypotheti- 
cal baptism ; "  since  his  baptism  by  a  Unitarian  minister  had 
raised  the  doubt  whether  "  water  were  used,  and  in  the  Triune 
name."  Others,  he  was  assured,  who  had  been  placed  in  simi- 
lar circumstances  had  done  so.  In  view  of  the  fact  that 
bishops  had  voted  for  him  who  did  not  approve  his  opinions, 
was  it  not  his  duty  to  make  at  least  this  concession  ?  With 
this  request  he  refused  to  comply,  assuring  those  who  made  it 
that  the  baptism  had  been  by  water,  and  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Of  this  he 
was  as  sure  as  that  the  name  given  him  in  baptism  had  been 
Phillips  Brooks. 

From  this  account  of  the  election  of  Phillips  Brooks  and 
his  confirmation  by  a  majority  of  two  thirds,  it  was  said,  of 


/et.  ssl  CORRESPONDENCE  849 

the  standing  committees  and  bishops,  we  turn  to  his  letters, 
and  to  the  minor  events  in  his  life  during  the  months  that 
had  elapsed  since  the  election.  The  letters  tell  the  story  in 
his  simple  way,  beginning  from  the  time  when  he  was  first 
mentioned  as  a  candidate  for  the  office  of  bishop. 

April  6, 1891. 
About  this  bishopric,  Arthur,  give  me  your  advice.  It  looks 
a  little  as  if  I  might  be  chosen.  Shall  I  accept  it  if  I  am? 
Won't  you  tell  me  what  you  think?  I  am  rather  inclined  to 
take  it  if  it  comes  to  me.  I  do  believe  one  might  do  good  work 
there.  And  it  is  not  right  for  men  to  be  perpetually  declining. 
I  wish  I  could  talk  with  you  about  it,  and  know  just  how  it  seems 
to  you.  "Won't  you  write  me  a  line  and  tell  me,  for  I  should 
value  your  judgment  more  than  anybody's  ?  There  is  perhaps  not 
much  chance  of  my  election,  but  there  is  a  chance. 

April  26, 1891. 
Dear  Arthur,  —  Thank  you  for  your  last  letter.  I  entirely 
agree  with  your  judgment,  and  shall  not  go  to  the  Convention 
this  week,  which  will  not  be  a  difficult  piece  of  self-restraint. 
But  I  think  it  seems  very  much  now  as  if  Satterlee  was  to  be  our 
Bishop.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  state  of  things  consider 
my  election  quite  unlikely.  .  .  .  We  surely  might  have  done 
much  worse.  I  think  the  fine,  and  at  one  time  hopeful,  boom 
for  another  candidate  will  not  have  been  entirely  in  vain,  if  it 
has  secured  a  well-meaning  and  modern  man  like  Satterlee  rather 
than  a  medievalist  with  base  designs.  For  myself,  I  had  come 
to  feel  that  I  should  like  the  place.  Its  attractions  had  grown 
upon  me  the  more  I  had  thought  of  it.  I  had  dwelt  with  plea- 
sure on  the  idea  of  knowing  the  State  and  seeing  our  Church  do 
a  good  work  for  her.  But  I  shall  not  grieve  at  going  back  to 
Trinity  and  the  familiar,  happy  work  there.     With  all  love, 

Always  your  brother,  P. 

To  a  daughter  of  his  friend  Leighton  Parks  he  writes :  — 

233  Clarendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  May  3,  1891. 

Mr  dear  Alice,  —  It  makes  me  very  glad  indeed  to  know 
that  you  are  glad  that  I  am  to  be  your  bishop.  I  will  be  as  good 
a  bishop  as  I  can  to  you,  and  Ellen,  and  Georgette,  and  all  the 
other  people. 

If  you  ever  think  I  am  not  a  very  good  bishop,  you  must  blame 
your  father,  because  he  helped  make  me  bishop.  But  you  must 
always  know  that  I  am  doing  the  best  I  can. 

vol.  n 


850  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

I  wish  you  were  going  to  be  at  Nantucket  this  summer,  so  that 
I  could  come  and  see  you.  But  it  will  be  pleasant  to  think  what 
a  good  time  you  will  be  having  in  Europe,  and  it  will  be  delight- 
ful to  have  you  back  again. 

I  send  my  best  love  to  Ellen  and  Georgette,  and  am  always 
Affectionately  your  friend, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

To  the  Rt.  Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter :  — 

May  4, 1891. 

My  dear  Henry,  —  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  your 
kind  benediction!  It  makes  the  new,  strange  prospect  seem  not 
so  wholly  strange,  and  tempts  me  to  believe  that  what  has  hap- 
pened is  for  good. 

I  did  not  think  I  ever  should  be  a  bishop,  but  who  can  tell  ?  It 
seemed  as  if  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  follow  where  the  leading 
went  before.  I  know  you  will  not  fail  to  ask  with  me  God's 
blessing,  and  let  me  count  upon  your  friendship,  —  as  in  all  the 
past  happy  years,  so  even  to  the  end. 

You  know  that  I  am  gratefully  and  affectionately 

Yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

One  of  the  inconveniences  attending  his  entrance  on  the 
episcopate  was  felt  by  his  parishioners  and  friends  to  be  the 
abandonment  it  would  involve  of  his  residence,  the  rectory  of 
Trinity  Church,  for  the  bishop's  house  on  Chestnut  Street. 
On  May  13  he  was  informed  of  the  unanimous  resolution  at 
a  meeting  of  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  Trinity  Church,  held 
the  previous  day,  —  *'  that  the  wardens  and  vestry  earnestly 
request  Dr.  Brooks  to  make  no  arrangements  for  a  change  of 
residence  at  present."  Further  action  on  the  subject  was 
postponed  until  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the  transfer 
of  the  property  could  be  made. 

To  the  Rev.  Professor  F.  G.  Peabody,  of  Harvard,  he  wrote 
with  reference  to  the  change  in  his  relations  to  the  Univer- 
sity :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  5, 1891. 
Dear  Dr.  Peabody,  —  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for 
your  kind  letter.  Now  that  the  matter  is  decided,  and  I  am  to 
be  a  bishop,  I  can  only  hope  that  I  may  so  exercise  my  office  that 
you  and  others,  who  do  not  think  much  of  it,  may  see  in  it  some- 
thing more  than  they  have  suspected  to  be  there. 


mt.  55]  CORRESPONDENCE  851 

At  any  rate,  I  shall  rejoice  to  know  that  in  whatever  work, 
great  or  little,  I  may  be  engaged  I  have  your  friendship  and 
sympathy.  They  have  been  very  much  to  me  and  always  will 
be.   .   .   . 

As  to  the  preachership  at  Cambridge,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  except  to  give  it  up  entirely.  The 
new  work,  which  I  cannot  at  present  measure,  ought  to  have  all 
my  time.  At  least  I  must  not  be  bound  by  any  other  stated 
engagements,  or  even  vague  promises.  I  need  not  tell  you  with 
what  great  reluctance  I  give  up  a  work  which  has  been  to  me  of 
such  great  and  precious  interest.  I  have  rejoiced  to  do  all  that 
I  could,  and  it  has  been  a  perpetual  satisfaction  to  be  allowed  to 
work  with  you.  I  shall  be  with  it  always  in  heart,  and  whenever 
I  can  serve  it  without  neglect  of  other  duties  which  I  have  under- 
taken I  shall  rejoice  to  do  so.  I  cannot  help  believing  that  you 
will  find  the  men  who  will  take  up  the  work  which  we  have  done, 
and  do  it  better. 

Forgive  this  hasty  note,  and  count  me,  always  with  sincere 
respect  and  faithful  good  wishes, 

Your  true  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Among  the  congratulations  to  which  he  responded  were 
those  of  his  friends  in  Philadelphia.  To  Mrs.  James  C. 
Biddle  he  writes :  — 

May  7, 1891. 

Dear  Mrs.  Biddle,  —  Your  telegram  gave  me  great  satisfac- 
tion. The  long  years  in  which  we  have  been  friends,  and  the 
kind  sympathy  with  which  you  have  followed  all  my  work,  makes 
this  new  greeting  very  precious.  I  hope  that  what  has  come  may 
be  for  good.     With  best  love  to  you  and  yours,  I  am, 

Yours  faithfully,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  Mr.  Eobert  Treat  Paine  who  was  in  Europe,  he  wrote 
at  greater  length :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  14, 1891. 
Dear  Bob  Paine,  —  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  it  has  come,  and  I 
suppose  it  will  move  on  to  its  completion,  although  there  seems 
to  be  a  little  insignificant  opposition  to  it.  But  that  will  not 
come  to  anything,  and  I  shall  be  a  bishop.  Oh,  how  often  I  have 
wished  that  you  were  here,  that  we  might  talk  it  all  over  to- 
gether, and  I  might  have  your  counsel,  as  I  have  had  it  so  abun- 
dantly all  these  happy  years.  But  indeed,  Bob,  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do  but  to  accept  the  election  when  it  came,  and 
there  was  never  any  moment  when  one  had  the  right  or  the  chance 


852  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

to  say,  "I  cannot."  The  thing  became  clothed  with  so  much 
significance  that  one  owed  it  to  Truth  and  to  the  Church  to  stand, 
and  so,  the  first  thing  I  knew,  I  was  bishop  so  far  as  the  diocesan 
convention  could  make  me  one. 

Indeed  I  do  not  know  wholly  what  to  think  about  it,  though 
the  spirit  and  way  in  which  the  whole  thing  has  been  done  seems 
to  promise  a  beautiful  and  splendid  chance  for  good.  But  at 
present  I  think  that  all  my  mind  is  running  backward.  What  a 
twenty- two  years  this  has  been!  How  little  I  dreamed,  when  I 
came  here  in  '69,  of  all  the  happiness  that  was  before  me!  How 
good  and  generous  everybody  has  been!  And  now,  this  great, 
splendid  Church  and  Parish  as  the  monument  and  token  of  it  all ! 
I  sit  and  think  it  all  over,  and  am  very  grateful,  —  I  hope  as 
grateful  as  I  ought  to  be,  —  certainly  as  humble  as  ever  any 
mortal  was. 

And  you  know  something,  you  cannot  know  all,  of  how  this 
great  happiness  and  delight  in  all  these  years  has  had  the  most 
sacred  and  close  connection  with  you  and  yours.  What  you  and 
your  wife  and  your  children  have  been  to  me  it  would  be  prepos- 
terous for  me  to  try  to  tell.  But  the  great  years  never  could 
have  been  without  you.  How  it  all  comes  pouring  on  my  recol- 
lection. What  a  million  of  little  and  big  events.  And  how 
thankful  to  you  I  am  you  will  never  know.  God  bless  you  for 
it  all! 

And  now  about  the  future.  There  surely  is  one.  We  are 
young  fellows  yet,  and  much  as  there  is  behind  us,  there  is  more 
before,  more  in  quality  at  least  if  not  in  quantity.  The  diocese 
is  just  a  larger  parish,  with  some  things  added  which  are  full  of 
interest.  I  feel  as  if  the  Episcopal  Church  and  the  State  of 
Massachusetts  needed  to  understand  one  another,  and  to  be  more 
to  each  other  than  they  have  been  heretofore.  If  I  can  make 
them  know  one  another  at  all,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  Then  I  look 
forward  to  much  intercourse  with  young  ministers,  and  to  the 
effort  to  give  them  inspiration  and  hope  and  breadth  of  view.  I 
expect  to  preach  here  and  there  and  everywhere  up  and  down  the 
State,  and  the  people  will  get  tired  of  hearing  me  before  I  shall 
get  tired  of  addressing  them.  The  colleges  and  schools  of  Mas- 
sachusetts are  immensely  interesting  to  me,  and  I  shall  know 
them  all.  And  all  the  good  work  of  every  kind  which  one  can 
touch  with  something  of  religious  fire  will  have  one's  eager  sym- 
pathy and  service. 

Besides  all  this,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  think  that  personal 
pastorship  would  have  to  be  entirely  abandoned.  Many  people 
come  to  me  now  for  the  poor  spiritual  help  which  I  can  give,  who 


jet.  55]  CORRESPONDENCE  853 

are  in  no  way  connected  with  Trinity  Church.  I  know  how  vast 
a  part  of  the  population  of  our  State  is  not  connected  with  any 
church  at  all.  I  hope  that  there  may  he  a  good  many  of  these 
who  in  one  way  or  another  will  find  me  out  and  give  me  the 
privilege  of  hearing  them  and  helping  them. 

When  I  run  over  the  opportunities  of  the  episcopate  thus,  I 
feel  sure  that  it  is  no  wooden  and  mechanical  office  to  which  I 
have  been  summoned.  It  is  all  splendidly  alive  if  one  can  make 
it  so.  And  there  is  no  place  so  good  to  be  bishop  in  as  Massa- 
chusetts. Our  Church  here  is  sensible  and  broad.  The  people 
about  her  are  willing  and  glad  to  see  her  take  her  part  in  every 
good  work,  and  (what  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me)  those  who 
have  chosen  me  know  the  worst  of  the  man  whom  they  have 
chosen.  They  have  summered  and  wintered  me  for  twenty-two 
years,  and  know  pretty  much  what  they  will  have  to  expect  of 
their  new  bishop. 

But  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  am  sure  it  means  the  entire  resig- 
nation of  the  rectorship  of  Trinity  Church,  and  the  election  of  a 
new  man  who  shall  be  absolutely  master  of  that  place.  Nothing 
else  than  that  would  be  just  to  the  diocese,  or  the  parish,  or  the 
new  minister,  or  me.  I  shall  have  chance  enough  to  preach  in 
Boston  when  I  have  the  time  to  do  so.  And  at  first  the  larger 
part  of  my  time  will  be  spent  away  from  the  city.  The  best 
man  must  be  found ;  would  that  we  knew  him !  But  he  will  be 
found,  and  we  will  give  him  ungrudging  welcome  to  the  pulpit, 
and  he  shall  have  for  his  own  the  best  parish  in  the  world.  And 
he  and  his  family  will  live  here  in  this  house.  I  am  trying  to 
fancy  them  in  these  rooms,  and  do  not  wish  them  anything  but 
good.  And  I  shall  come  up  into  Chestnut  Street,  —  26  is  the 
number,  —  and  be  as  snug  and  comfortable  as  possible  there.  I 
have  read  carefully  all  the  good  and  thoughtful  plans  in  your  de- 
lightful letter,  but,  believe  me,  it  is  not  good  to  think  of  any- 
thing except  the  entire  separation  of  the  church  and  the  episco- 
pate. You  will  give  strength,  I  know,  to  both  the  parish  and 
the  diocese,  and  I  shall  be  close  to  all  my  old  friends  still.  All 
this  about  myself!  You  will  forgive  it,  I  am  sure.  You  do  not 
know  how  I  wish  you  were  here !  But  the  Consecration  shall  be 
put  off,  if  possible,  till  you  get  back. 

To  the  Rev.  W.  R.  Huntington :  — 

Boston,  May  23, 1891. 

My  dear  Huntington,  —  I  wish  you  were  to  be  our  bishop ! 
These  people  who  cannot  sign  the  papers  of  the  new  man  who 
will  overlook  everything  and  oversee  nothing  have  a  lot  of  sym- 


854  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

pathy  from  me.  I  can  understand  all  their  misgivings,  and  could 
give  them  a  host  more  which  they  never  guessed.  But  when  it 
comes,  as  I  suppose  it  will,  you  will  let  me  he  sure  of  your  friend- 
ship through  all  my  blunders,  and  of  your  confidence  that  at 
least  I  am  trying  hard. 

I  must  insist  now  on  keeping  to  the  end  that  which  you  have 
generously  allowed  me  all  these  years. 

Always  your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  excitement  over  the  election  was  drawing  towards  its 
culmination  when  he  wrote  this  letter  to  Rev.  John  C. 
Brooks :  — 

233  Clakendon  Street,  Boston,  May  27, 1891. 

Dear  Johnny,  —  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your  good 
letter.  It  is  indeed  a  ridiculous  pother  that  is  going  on,  but  it 
has  this  advantage,  that  it  is  bringing  the  whole  matter  out  into 
broad  daylight,  and  the  decision  when  it  comes  will  have  its  full 
value,  and  when  a  distinct  Broad  Churchman,  thoroughly  recog- 
nized and  proclaimed  as  such,  is  made  a  bishop. 

The  opposition  has  been  thoroughly  upon  the  grounds  of  admit- 
ted facts.  Nobody  has  charged  me  with  theft  or  murder.  I  do 
not  believe  the  doctrine  of  apostolical  succession,  and  I  am  sure 
that  Lyman  Abbott  has  the  right  to  preach  the  gospel.  I  shall 
be  confirmed  with  the  clear  knowledge  of  those  positions  in  every- 
body's mind,  and  so  it  will  be  fully  made  known  that  they  are  no 
objections  to  a  man's  episcopate. 

And  I  shall  be  confirmed.  There  is  no  doubt  of  the  result, 
and  then  I  think  the  good  bishops  will  find  what  a  delightful 
member  of  the  Upper  House  I  am. 

What  an  excitement  there  is  all  through  the  theological  world. 
It  is  all  good,  and  in  the  end  we  are  to  have  a  larger  Christian 
life.  Certainly  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  things  going  back 
to  what  they  were  twenty  years  ago. 

Affectionately  your  brother,  P. 

A  relative  of  Bishop  Clark  had  sent  to  Dr.  Brooks  a  some- 
what severe  portrait  of  himself,  whose  reception  he  acknow- 
ledged with  these  lines :  — 

No  wonder,  if  't  is  thus  he  looks, 
The  Church  has  doubts  of  Phillips  Brooks. 
Well,  if  he  knows  himself,  he  '11  try 
To  give  these  dreadful  looks  the  lie. 
He  dares  not  promise,  but  will  seek 
E'en  as  a  bishop  to  be  meek, 


jet.  55]  CORRESPONDENCE  855 

To  walk  the  way  he  shall  he  shown, 
To  trust  a  strength  that 's  not  his  own, 
To  fill  the  years  with  honest  work, 
To  serve  his  day  and  not  to  shirk, 
And  quite  forget  what  folks  have  said, 
To  keep  his  heart  and  keep  his  head, 
Until  men,  laying  him  to  rest, 
Shall  say,  at  least  he  did  his  best. 

To  the  Kev.  C.  A.  L.  Richards  he  wrote,  while  the  voting 
of  the  bishops  was  in  process  :  — 

Boston,  June  20,  1891. 

There  is  no  doubt,  I  take  it,  about  my  being  bishop,  but  the 
matter  moves  on  very  slowly.  I  think  the  opposition  have  done 
everything  in  their  power  to  clothe  the  election  with  significance, 
and  when  the  final  collapse  of  things  does  not  happen  upon  Con- 
secration Day,  I  do  not  see  how  they  will  explain  the  failure.  But 
now  let 's  put  it  all  out  of  our  minds  and  be  the  most  careless  of 
summer  birds  for  the  next  two  months. 

It  was  quite  impossible  for  Mr.  Brooks  to  have  acknow- 
ledged the  immense  number  of  congratulatory  letters  he 
received;  but  he  did  not  fail  to  respond  to  his  personal 
friends  who  stood  closest  to  him.  Thus  he  writes  to  Dr. 
Weir  Mitchell  that  the  episcopate  would  not  have  been  com- 
plete without  his  blessing.  "  If  I  become  a  bishop  I  shall  be 
very  much  the  same  kind  of  fellow,  I  fancy,  that  I  have  been 
all  along." 

The  following  letter  is  addressed  to  Rev.  Leighton  Parks, 
in  Europe :  — 

North  Andoveb,  July  4,  1891. 

Dear  Parks,  — Your  telegram  was  very  welcome,  though  it 
must  still  be  taken  as  prophetic,  for  not  yet  have  the  bishops 
made  up  their  minds  and  sent  their  answers  about  my  consecra- 
tion. I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise  to  let  you  know  when  the 
result  was  reached,  but  as  yet  I  know  nothing  except  what  I 
heard  in  a  letter  from  Bishop  Clark,  who  had  been  to  see  Bishop 
Williams,  and  Bishop  Williams  said  he  thought  it  would  be  a 
fortnight  still  before  they  were  in.  But  there  seemed  to  be  no 
doubt  about  the  great  result,  and  he  went  so  far  as  to  mention 
for  the  Consecration  Day  the  16th  of  September,  which,  it  seems, 
is  an  Ember  Day.  I  shall  try  to  have  it  put  off  till  a  day  in 
October,  but  perhaps  I  shall  not  succeed ;  in  which  case  you  will 


856  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

find  me  a  bishop  when  you  come  home.  My  dear  Parks,  you 
will  be  kind  to  me,  won't  you?  as  you  always  have  been.  And 
you  won't  go  through  any  silly  joke  about  its  making  a  difference 
in  our  way  to  one  another,  and  compelling  you  to  behave  differ- 
ently to  me,  will  you?  Because,  if  you  say  you  will,  I  will  re- 
fuse to  be  bishop  even  at  this  late  day. 

The  world  crawls  on  as  well  as  it  can  here  without  you.  "We 
have  had  Commencement  at  the  Theological  School  and  at  the 
College.  Willie  Newton  and  Charles  Learoyd  have  both  gone 
to  Europe.  They  have  chosen  Bishop  Talbot  to  be  Bishop  of 
Georgia.  Harvard  beat  Yale  in  the  boat  race.  My  days  go  by 
here  in  the  old  house  in  delightful  peace.  The  great  strong  winter 
lies  far  behind  us.  I  think  of  you  and  the  children,  and  wish  you 
all  best  blessings.  Give  them  my  love,  and  my  best  greetings  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nay  lor;  and  for  yourself,  dear  Parks,  you  know 
how  utterly  I  am, 

Your  friend,  P.  B. 

Of  the  three  following  letters  to  Bishop  Clark  the  first  was 
written  while  the  question  was  still  undecided;  the  others 
immediately  after  the  announcement  that  his  election  had 
been  confirmed. 

Boston,  July  6,  1891. 

Dear  Bishop  Clark,  —  The  bishops  do  not  seem  to  be  in  any 
very  anxious  haste  to  have  me  one  of  them.  But  I  can  freely 
wait,  and  when  they  have  entirely  made  up  their  minds,  no  doubt 
they  will  kindly  speak,  and  all  the  world  will  listen. 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  am  glad  that  you  have  seen 
Bishop  Williams,  and  he  feels  pleasantly  about  it  all.  After  the 
matter  is  all  settled,  I  shall  be  glad,  if  he  wishes  it,  to  go  and  see 
him  and  to  make  any  arrangement  which  he  desires  with  regard 
to  the  consecration. 

I  hope  he  will  not  insist  upon  having  the  service  before  the 
first  days  of  October.  My  reason  for  wishing  this  is  mainly  that 
certain  persons  "whom  I  very  much  wish,  and  who  themselves  very 
much  desire,  to  be  at  the  ceremony  are  abroad,  and  will  not  be 
at  home  before  the  1st  of  October. 

I  am  glad  of  this  quiet  summer,  and  especially  of  the  quiet 
days  at  North  Andover,  before  the  change  comes.  I  have  been 
thinking  a  great  deal  about  it  all  and  hoping  and  praying  that  I 
may  be  able  to  do  my  duty.  The  work  looks  very  interesting, 
and  I  think  the  simplest  view  of  it  makes  it  most  serious  and 
sacred.     I  do  not  know  why  one  should  not  carry  into  it  the  same 


mt.  SS~\  CORRESPONDENCE  857 

simple  faith  by  which  he  has  always  tried  to  live,  that  He  whose 
the  work  is  will  give  the  strength;   and  so  I  do  not  dare  to  fear. 
I  am  counting  on  your  visit  by  and  by,  and  meanwhile  I  am 
always,  faithfully  and  affectionately, 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Boston,  July  13,  1891. 

Dear  Bishop  Clark,  —  Yes,  it  is  settled,  and  with  God's 
help  I  will  be  the  best  bishop  that  I  can.  I  am  going  to  see 
Bishop  Williams  on  Thursday.  We  have  communicated  most 
cordially  already  by  letter.  At  his  request  I  have  expressed  my 
wish  that  the  consecration  should  be  in  Trinity  Church,  that  he 
should  preside,  that  you  and  Bishop  Whipple  should  present  me, 
that  Bishop  Potter  should  preach  the  sermon,  and  that  my  brothers 
should  be  the  attendant  presbyters.  I  will  write  you  again  as 
soon  as  I  have  seen  Bishop  Williams. 

And  let  me  thank  you,  my  dear  friend,  for  all  the  interest  you 
have  taken  in  it  all,  and  for  the  comfort  and  strength  which  you 
have  given  me  for  the  past  months.  I  do  not  know  what  I  should 
have  done  without  you ;  and  your  kindness  will  always  make  one 
of  the  happiest  associations  of  my  episcopate.  I  thank  you  with 
all  my  heart. 

It  is  on  Monday  that  we  shall  expect  you  at  North  Andover, 
and  I  shall  meet  you  at  whatever  train  you  will  name.  The  ear- 
lier you  come  the  better,  and  you  will  surely  give  me  all  that 
week  and  as  much  longer  as  you  can.  I  hope  that  you  are  well 
and  happy. 

Ever  yours  affectionately,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Minnequa,  Jnly  21,  1891. 

Dear  Bishop  Clark,  —  I  want  to  tell  you  about  the  delight- 
ful visit  which  I  paid  to  the  Presiding  Bishop.  How  can  I  tell 
whether  he  was  as  much  pleased  with  it  as  I  was  ?  But  at  any 
rate  we  got  on  beautifully.  We  talked  together,  and  I  examined 
his  robes,  and  I  lunched  with  him,  and  he  was  kindness  and 
courtesy  itself,  as  if  nobody  had  ever  had  any  right  to  misgivings 
about  my  orthodoxy,  or  he  himself  had  ever  doubted  whether  I 
could  say  the  Nicene  Creed.  On  the  whole,  I  think  the  visit  to 
Bishop  Williams  was  a  success,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  be  on  the  best  of  terms  hereafter  so  long  as  we  live. 

Then  I  went  to  New  York,  and  ordered  a  set  of  the  preposter- 
ous garments  that  bishops  wear.  Then  I  came  here,  where  my 
brother  Arthur  has  a  house,  where  I  have  spent  a  pleasant  two 
days,  and  where  your  most  kind  letter  reached  me,  with  the  re- 
ports of  all  the  good  things  which  the  bishops  said. 


858  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

All  this  about  my  miserable  self.  Be  sure  that  I  am  ever  and 
ever,  my  dear  Bishop  Clark, 

Yours  most  affectionately,  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  Rev.  John  Henry  Hopkins  had  not  only  taken  what 
part  he  could  in  securing  the  confirmation  of  Dr.  Brooks's 
election,  but  after  the  result  was  reached  wrote  this  letter  to 
Phillips  Brooks,  which  has  in  it  a  touch  of  pathos :  — 

July  11,  1891. 

Rev.  and  dear  Brother,  —  At  last  the  morning  papers  an- 
nounce that  the  majority  of  the  Bishops  consent  to  your  consecra- 
tion, though  they  have  been  so  slow  about  it  that  I  began  to  feel 
a  little  uneasy.  Not  about  you!  Your  position  is  one  which 
Bishops  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  Nor  do  I  congratulate 
you,  for  the  burden  of  the  Episcopate  is  too  heavy  to  be  a  fit 
subject  for  congratulation.  But  I  rejoice  that  the  American 
Church    has    not    been    switched  from  its  propriety    by    such    a 

disgusting   mess  of   twaddle    as    the  business,    even  when 

backed  up  by  so  light  a  weight  as  the  name  of  Dr.  .      I 

loathe  this  whole  "private  and  confidential "  business  of  stabbing 
a  man  in  the  dark,  and  only  wonder  that  the  miserable  under- 
ground burrowing  has  affected  as  many  good  men  as  it  has.     Part 

of  the  opposition,  however,  is  due  (as  with )  to  a  conviction 

that  you  are  an  Arian  of  some  shade!  Of  course,  if  you  were 
that,  I  should  do  as  he  has  done;  but  I  have  never  seen  any 
proof  of  it,  and  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I  only  wish  I  were 
well  enough  to  attend  your  consecration ;  but  I  have  an  incurable 
disease,  which  renders  it  impossible,  and  have  probably  only  a 
few  weeks,  perhaps  months,  to  live.  I  shall  be  with  you  in  spirit 
on  that  day.  You  and  I  do  not  agree  about  some  things;  but 
we  can  differ  like  honest  men  who  respect  one  another;  and  I 
respect  and  honor  you  as  the  foremost  preacher  of  our  Anglican 
Communion,  and  shall  rejoice  to  see  you  a  member  of  our  House 
of  Bishops.  I  regard  your  elevation  as  the  most  important  step 
yet  taken  in  bringing  New  England  into  the  Church. 

Your  obedient  servant  in  the  Church, 

J.  H.  Hopkins. 

He  writes  to  Rev.  C.  D.  Cooper,  the  Hon.  Robert  C.  Win- 
throp,  and  others,  telling  them  of  the  arrangements  made  for 
the  Consecration,  and  urging  their  presence :  — 

Minnequa,  Pennsylvania,  July  20,  1891. 

Dear  old  Cooper,  —  The  bishops  have  more  or  less  reluc- 
tantly consented,  and  I  am  to  be  consecrated  in  Trinity,  Boston, 


jet.  55]  CORRESPONDENCE  859 

on  the  14th  of  October.  And  you  will  come,  won't  you?  I 
know  you  do  not  like  such  things,  but  this  is  mine.  And  we 
have  loved  each  other  all  these  years,  and  it  will  make  the  epis- 
copate sweeter  and  easier  always  to  remember  that  your  kindly 
face  looked  on  at  the  ceremony,  and  that  your  beloved  voice 
joined  in  the  prayers !  I  want  you  more  than  all  the  rest !  I 
shall  keep  you  a  room  under  my  own  roof,  and  it  is  not  likely  I 
shall  get  you  there  again,  for  I  must  move  into  the  old  house 
where  bishops  live,  on  Chestnut  Street,  some  time  this  autumn. 

So  write  me  word  that  you  will  come.  Let  this  be  our  token 
that  no  episcopate  can  break  the  friendship  of  so  many  years, 
and  show  the  world  that  we  belong  together  even  if  they  have 
made  their  efforts  to  tear  us  from  one  another.  I  claim  your 
presence  as  my  right. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  feel  right  about  it  all ;  only  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  a  new  and  broader  opportunity  to  serve  the  Master 
whom  we  have  been  loving  and  serving  all  this  long  ministry, 
and  with  the  opportunity  I  believe  that  He  will  give  me  strength ; 
that  's  all,  and  I  am  very  happy.  .  .  .  God  bless  you,  dear 
Cooper,  and  make  us  faithful,  and  give  us  the  great  joy  at  last. 
Your  affectionate  old  friend,  P.  B. 

Minneqtta,  July  20,  1891. 
Dear  Mb.  Wentthrop,  —  I  shall  not  cease  to  hope  that  you 
will  find  yourself  strong  enough  upon  that  day  to  be  present  at 
the  service.  It  will  be  the  crowning  token  of  the  kindness  and 
Christian  friendship  which  you  have  given  me  for  all  these  years. 
Present  or  absent,  I  know  that  I  shall  have  your  blessing.  But 
I  want  it  present.  I  was  anxious  that  you,  first  of  all,  should 
know  of  these  appointments,  for  I  am  sure  that  you  and  Mrs. 
Winthrop  are  interested  in  them. 

I  hope  that  you  grow  stronger  and  more  comfortable  from  day 
to  day.      I  send  my  love  to  Mrs.   Winthrop,  and  am  always, 
Faithfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

233  Clarendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  August  15,  1891. 

Dear  Arthur,  — I  will  join  the  Sons  of  the  Revolution  as 
they  are  being  organized  in  Massachusetts.  We  do  not  seem  to 
be  very  rich  in  military  ancestry,  but  our  Phillips  folks  were  cer- 
tainly true  patriots,  and  did  their  part  in  the  council  chamber,  if 
not  in  the  field,  to  set  the  new  nation  on  its  feet.  So  let 's  go  in 
for  the  assertion  that  our  dear  land  at  least  used  to  be  American. 

I  am  just  back  from  Mount  Desert,  where  I  had  a  pleasant 
week.     McVickar  and  I  were  staying  at  the  Morrills.     I  left 


860  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

him  there  and  came  up  to  Mr.  Lowell's  funeral,  at  which  Willie 
Lawrence  and  I  officiated  yesterday.  It  makes  the  world  seem 
poorer  to  have  him  gone,  for  his  genius  was  beautifully  rich  and 
generous.  On  the  whole,  I  do  not  know  where  we  have  had  a 
better  flower  of  our  American  life. 

And  this  morning's  paper  says  that  John  Henry  Hopkins  has 
gone.  He  was  a  part  of  the  picturesque  period  of  Church  life, 
which  seems  to  have  faded  before  the  electric  light  of  Church- 
work-Christianity.  I  suppose  that  almost  every  opinion  of  his 
was  a  mistake,  but  there  was  a  generous  impulsiveness  in  him 
which  made  it  good  to  have  him  about,  and  I  am  truly  sorry 
he  has  left  us. 

North  Andover,  Sunday  afternoon, 
August  16,  1891. 

Dear  Parks,  —  Let  me  write  you  once  more  before  the  sum- 
mer is  over,  and  you  and  the  children  set  sail  for  home,  and  the 
new  life  which  I  cannot  help  dreading  begins.  You  will  do  all 
you  can  to  make  it  like  the  old  life,  won't  you?  You  will  not, 
either  in  jest  or  in  earnest,  behave  as  if  there  had  come  a  break 
and  a  separation  between  us,  because  of  what  is  to  take  place  on 
the  14th  of  October !  I  hate  to  think  of  the  pageant  of  that 
day.  And  what  is  to  come  after  it  I  do  not  know.  Sometimes 
I  feel  as  if  any  good  which  my  bishopric  can  do  the  Church  were 
comprised  in  the  mere  fact  of  my  election  and  confirmation,  and 
now  I  had  better  resign  or  die.  Certainly  my  kind  opponents 
have  done  their  best  to  make  the  selection  of  me  significant. 
But  I  will  try  what  I  can  do  to  show  not  that  there  was  not  what 
they  called  a  great  danger,  but  that  what  they  chose  to  call  a 
danger  was  really  a  chance  and  opportunity  of  good.  You  don't 
know  how  the  work  attracts  me  in  my  better  moments  or  how 
earnestly  I  pray  for  strength  to  do  a  hundredth  part  of  what  my 
imagination  pictures.  Only  don't  desert  me.  I  had  a  sweet 
and  kindly  letter  of  congratulation  and  godspeed  from  your 
mother,  which  made  me  very  grateful. 

I  went  to  Marion  and  had  two  days  with  John.  He  was  well 
and  happy.  And  Percy  was  benignantly  delightful,  beaming 
from  under  his  broad  brim  like  a  capacious  Quaker,  and  scriptur- 
ally  "judging  all  things."  .  .  .  He  is  coming  to  spend  his  Sun- 
days in  September  at  my  old  house  (where  the  club  used  to  meet) 
in  Boston.  Would  that  you  could  give  me  a  Sunday  or  two  there, 
after  the  old  autumnal  fashion,  before  you  settle  down  in  Brim- 
mer Street.     Will  you  ? 

You  wrote  me  from  the  Engadine,  and  I  was  very  grateful. 
I  wonder  where  you  are  now.     Wherever  you  are,  I  greet  you, 


jet.  ssl  CORRESPONDENCE  86 1 

and  send  my  love  to  the  children,  and  ask  you  to  remember  me 
most  kindly  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Naylor,  and  adjure  you  again  not 
to  let  the  bishopric  make  any  difference,  and  am  forever, 
Yours  affectionately, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

North  Andover,  August  17,  1891. 

My  dear  Bob  Paine,  —  There  are  six  weeks  before  the  awful 
day  comes  which  sends  me  off  bishoping  to  the  far  confines  of 
the  State.  I  dread  the  pageant  of  that  day,  but  it  will  soon 
be  over,  and  then,  were  it  not  for  what  I  leave  behind,  I  should 
look  forward  with  keen  pleasure  to  the  work  which  there  will  be 
to  do  for  the  Church  and  the  people.  The  papers  keep  up  a  run- 
ning talk  about  making  Trinity  a  cathedral.  That  does  not  in- 
terest me  much.  It  is  both  impossible  and  undesirable.  What 
interests  me  most  just  now,  and  what  I  should  like  to  make  the 
first  struggle  of  my  episcopate,  is  the  purchase  of  the  Church  of 
the  Messiah  for  our  City  Mission,  together  with  property  on 
Washington  Street,  which  should  enable  us  to  make  it  a  true  and 
strong  power  of  missionary  life.  The  Church  is  now  disused  and 
for  sale.  It  is  the  best  opportunity  that  has  offered  since  the 
great  fire  for  the  reestablishment  of  St.  Stephen's  Church  and 
House.  It  covers  the  field  which  we  have  worked  from  Trinity 
House.  It  would  fulfil  the  plan  of  a  great  powerful  establish- 
ment for  that  region  which  you  have  always  had.  It  would  cost 
a  good  deal  of  money  to  carry  it  on.  Everything,  you  see,  is 
in  its  favor.  And  the  man  would  certainly  appear.  Oh,  it  is 
the  men  that  we  want.     If  we  had  them ! 

And  Lowell  is  dead !  It  makes  the  world  emptier  and  sadder. 
No  man  of  letters  has  begun  to  do  so  much  good  work  as  he  has 
done,  and  his  whole  bearing  in  the  world  has  been  a  blessing. 
He  was  so  brave  and  true  and  kind  and  simple.  Even  the  Eng- 
lishmen admired  him. 

You  are  among  those  Englishmen,  I  fancy,  now.  Steal  the 
best  of  their  spirit  and  ideas  for  us.  That  is  what  we  have  al- 
ways done,  to  take  their  best  and  make  it  better. 

Phillips  Brooks. 

His  next  letter  is  one  which  it  cost  him  some  agony  to 
write,  —  he  did  not  know  what  agony  until  after  it  had  done 
its  work,  and  severed  his  relationship  as  the  rector  of  Trinity 
Church.  The  letter  is  addressed  to  the  senior  warden,  Mr. 
Charles  Henry  Parker :  — 


862  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  August  18,  1891. 

My  dear  Mr.  Parker,  —  I  hereby  offer  to  you  and  the  Par- 
ish of  Trinity  Church  my  resignation  of  the  Rectorship,  to  take 
effect  on  the  14th  of  next  October,  when  I  shall  be  consecrated 
as  Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts. 

I  must  not  try  to  say  with  what  thankfulness  I  look  back  upon 
twenty-two  years  of  the  happiest  ministry  which  it  has  ever  been 
given  to  any  minister  to  enjoy,  or  with  what  profound  sorrow  I 
turn  away  from  it  to  my  new  work.  God  has  been  very  good  to 
us.  I  pray  that  His  richest  blessing  may  always  be  with  the 
Church  and  the  people  which,  while  life  shall  last,  will  be  very 
close  to  my  heart. 

It  is  a  great  joy  to  me  that,  if  I  may  no  longer  be  your  Pastor, 
I  may  still  be  near  you  as  your  Bishop,  and  that  I  may  always 
be  allowed  to  count  myself,  with  gratitude  and  love, 

Faithfully  your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

He  was  now  forecasting  the  new  life,  making  the  final  ar- 
rangements for  the  day  of  consecration,  and  for  the  Episcopal 
visitations  which  should  follow.  To  Mr.  A.  J.  C.  Sowdon  he 
wrote :  — 

September  7,  1891. 

My  dear  Sowdon,  —  May  I  say  how  very  glad  I  shall  be  if 
you  can  consent  to  take  charge  of  things  at  Trinity  Church  on 
the  Consecration  Day,  the  14th  of  October? 

It  is  not  only  that  I  know  how  well  it  will  be  done  if  you  will 
do  it,  but  still  more  that  it  will  be  a  great  satisfaction  that  one 
whom  I  have  all  my  life  been  glad  to  count  my  friend  should  care 
for  the  arrangements  of  what  is  to  me  such  an  important  and 
interesting  service.  I  hope  that  you  can  do  all  this  kindness, 
and  I  shall  always  thank  you  if  you  will. 

Ever  yours  faithfully  and  truly,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  the  Rev.  A.  C.  A.  Hall,  on  the  eve  of  his  return  to 
England,  he  wrote :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  October  13,  1891. 

Dear  Father  Hall,  — I  must  say  no  more.  Only  may  God 
guide  you ;  and  whatever  be  my  own  thought  about  it  all,  and  my 
own  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  the  sight  of  you,  I  shall  be  satisfied, 
for  I  know  how  you  are  seeking,  and  will  do,  the  will  of  God. 

And  it  is  the  common  effort  to  do  that  that  brings  and  keeps 
men  close  together.  I  thank  you  for  all  the  past,  and  for  the 
friendship  which  will  not  be  broken. 


jet.  55]  CORRESPONDENCE  863 

And  it  will  be  great  delight  and  strength  to  me  that  you  will 
come  to-morrow,  and  that  you  are  praying  for  me. 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

He  planned  to  begin  his  episcopal  visitations  among  the 
beautiful  Berkshire  hills,  glorious  in  their  autumn  foliage. 
"  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure,"  he  writes  to  the  Rev.  Wm. 
Wilberforce  Newton,  rector  of  St.  Stephen's,  Pittsfield,  "  to 
have  one  of  my  earliest  visits  to  your  church.  It  will  break 
the  shock  a  little  and  let  me  feel  as  if  I  had  not  wholly  said 
good-by  to  the  old  life.  You  don't  know  how  I  hold  on  to 
it."     He  writes  to  Mr.  Newton  and  to  Mr.  Cooper:  — 

Nobth  Andovek,  September  16,  1891. 

You  don't  mind  my  coming  to  you  on  an  off  day,  say  a  Satur- 
day, and  giving  the  big  days  to  men  whom  I  know  less  well,  do 
you  ?  I  must  take  liberties  with  some  one ;  may  I  not  take  them 
with  my  friends  who  know  that  I  love  them  and  care  for  their 
work  ?  It  may  be  a  big  price  to  pay  for  the  fruitless  joy  of  my 
friendship,  but  such  must  be  the  penalty.  At  least,  this  first 
year  I  will  try  first  to  stand  by  my  appointments  and  let  men 
see  that  I  want  to  know  the  men  and  the  places  which  I  now 
know  least,  and  that  I  am  not  tempted  by  the  prospect  of  fair 
Sundays  in  my  good  friend's  rectory.  Read  this  between  the 
lines  when  the  list  comes  out  and  forgive  me  for  Saturday  after- 
noon. 

I  shall  run  in  on  you  more  than  once  during  my  Berkshire 
wanderings  this  autumn.  There  is  no  exhilaration  about  the  new 
work  yet,  but  it  will  come.  At  present,  there  is  mostly  a  deep 
sense  of  what  the  past  twenty-two  years  have  been  and  of  what 
I  would  make  them  if  I  could  have  them  again,  but  I  must  not 
trouble  you  with  that. 

233  Clakendon  Street,  Boston,  September  26, 1891. 

My  dear  Cooper,  —  Thank  you  sincerely  for  your  letter.  It 
is  good  to  know  that  you  are  at  home  again  in  your  old  nest  which 
I  know  so  well,  and  where  I  am  so  sure  that  you  are  comfortable. 
I  hope  it  is  not  so  hot  there  this  morning  as  it  is  here.  They 
say  there  is  a  cold  wave  coming.     Would  that  it  were  here ! 

And  now  the  consecration  draws  near.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to 
see  you  on  the  evening  of  the  10th.  Of  course  you  must  stay 
here.  I  shall  not  hear  of  anything  else.  Arthur  and  his  wife 
will  be  here,  and  Bishop  Clark  and  John;  that  is  all  besides  you. 


864  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

It  will  be  a  great  delight  to  have  you  here  for  the  last  Sunday, 
and  during  those  last  days. 

You  must  bring  a  surplice.  I  cannot  be  sure  of  what  the 
church  will  be  able  to  supply. 

The  robes  have  just  come  in  and  stand  beside  me  on  the  floor 
as  I  write.  Poor  things !  they  little  know  how  they  have  got  to 
travel  up  and  down  the  land,  and  in  what  hundreds  of  pulpits 
they  have  got  to  stand.  It  is  a  pity  that  one  has  to  wear  them, 
and  that  the  whole  subject  of  the  episcopate  should  be  so  in- 
volved with  clothes,  but  one  must  make  the  best  of  that,  and  in- 
deed, Cooper,  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  it  seems  to  me 
as  if  there  were  really  no  necessity  in  the  nature  of  things  that 
a  bishop  should  be  a  fool. 

Good-by,  and  give  me  your  kind  thoughts,  and  be  sure  that 
I  am,  Yours  affectionately,  P.  B. 

So  absorbing  was  the  question  of  the  episcopate  that  other 
events  seem  relatively  unimportant.  But  an  allusion  at  least 
must  be  made  to  a  few  circumstances  which  are  interesting, 
and  may  have  served  to  distract  his  mind  from  the  turmoil 
raging  around  him  in  that  trying  period.  It  was  with  plea- 
sure that  he  met  in  this  country  the  famous  African  explorer 
Mr.  H.  M.  Stanley,  and  his  wife  whom  he  had  already  known 
in  England.  Mrs.  Stanley  writes  him  after  listening  to  a 
sermon  in  Trinity  Church  with  her  husband :  — 

Mr.  Stanley  says  it  is  one  of  the  most  rousing  sermons  he  ever 
heard.  He  said  it  made  him  feel  excited,  and  that  as  a  young 
man,  such  a  sermon  would  have  certainly  stirred  him  to  action. 

Many  important  and  attractive  invitations  came  to  him, 
but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  considered  any  of  them  as  pos- 
sibilities ;  he  was  shutting  himself  up  more  and  more  to  his 
own  distinctive  work  at  Trinity  Church.  Thus  he  was  invited 
by  Hon.  Joseph  H.  Choate  to  make  the  address  in  New  York 
before  the  society  which  had  been  formed  under  the  inspira- 
tion of  General  Sherman,  to  commemorate  annually  the  birth- 
day of  General  Grant  on  the  27th  of  April.  He  declined  to 
take  any  part  in  the  Parliament  of  Religions  to  be  held  in 
Chicago  at  the  approaching  World's  Fair  in  1893.  He  was 
asked  by  his  friend  Dr.  Montagu  Butler,  of  Trinity  College,  of 
the  English  Cambridge,  to  allow  his  name  to  be  placed  in  the 


jet.  55]  HONORS   DECLINED  865 

list  of  "  Select  Preachers,"  and  to  fill  the  university  pulpit  on 
Whitsunday  in  1892.  And  again  he  was  urged  by  the  Regius 
Professor  of  Divinity,  Dr.  H.  B.  Swete,  as  chairman  of  the 
Special  Board  of  Divinity,  to  accept  a  nomination  to  the  office 
of  Lecturer  on  Pastoral  Theology  for  the  year  1891-92.  It 
was  suggested  to  him  that  the  subject  of  the  course  should  be 
"  Preaching."  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  accept  an  invita- 
tion from  Mr.  John  Quincy  Adams,  president  of  the  Harvard 
Alumni  Association,  to  make  a  speech  at  the  Commencement 
dinner.  He  accepted  an  honor  which  cost  him  no  effort,  but 
gave  him  pleasure,  honorary  membership  of  the  A  A  *  Club 
in  New  York.  He  also  gave  in  his  name  after  serious  de- 
liberation as  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends  of  Russian 
Freedom.  Mr.  Stepniak  has  told  of  an  interview  with  him  at 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Deland. 

We  had  a  long  conversation  upon  general  Russian  topics,  which 
was  led  almost  entirely  by  him.  He  showed  an  interest  in  every- 
thing ;  in  the  Russian  religious  movement  and  in  its  possible  bear- 
ings; in  the  agrarian  laws  prevailing  among  our  peasantry;  in 
the  peculiar  position  of  the  bureaucracy  and  the  Tzar;  in  the 
character  of  Russian  literature,  and  the  periodical  press;  in  the 
woman  question.  He  professed  to  be  quite  ignorant  about  Rus- 
sia, but  to  me  it  seemed  as  if  he  already  knew  everything  and 
asked  me  only  by  way  of  confirmation.  His  quick  mind  ran  in 
advance  of  my  explanations.  He  guessed  from  the  first  sentences 
what  would  follow,  and  surprised  me  by  the  remarks  and  sugges- 
tions of  a  fellow  student  of  the  subject  and  not  of  an  attentive 
listener. 

He  suffered  through  his  sympathy  with  his  dear  friend, 
Rev.  James  P.  Franks,  in  the  heavy  bereavement  which  came 
to  him ;  many  were  the  letters  of  tender  condolence  which  he 
wrote.  He  went  out  to  Cambridge  on  the  25th  of  April  to 
officiate  in  Appleton  Chapel  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of 
Adelbert  Shaw,  of  Fishkill,  a  member  of  the  University  crew. 
Of  the  prayer  which  he  made,  Professor  F.  G.  Peabody  re- 
marked :  "It  was  the  greatest  illustration  of  the  power  of 
free  prayer  that  I  ever  heard  or  read  of." 

On  June  16  he  was  present  at  the  alumni  dinner  of  the 
Episcopal  Theological  School,  —  an  occasion  of  unusual  inter- 

vol.  n 


866  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891 

est  and  enthusiasm,  for  the  event  which  was  to  separate  him 
to  some  extent  from  other  institutions  of  learning  was  to 
bring  him  closer  to  its  students.  In  the  course  of  the  address 
he  made,  one  remark  is  remembered :  "  What  this  school 
seeks  to  do  is  not  to  turn  out  men  of  one  school  of  thought 
or  of  a  single  stamp,  but  men  great  in  every  way,  thinkers, 
scholars,  preachers,  saints." 

Among  other  incidents  was  an  address  at  the  opening  exer- 
cises of  the  School  of  Expression,  where  the  "  words  of  this 
great  master  of  speech  made  an  unusually  deep  and  incom- 
municable impression  upon  his  hearers."  One  who  heard 
reports  these  remarks  :  — 

I  have  no  theory  or  doctrine  regarding  expression,  and  yet  I 
must  speak  of  it  with  the  profoundest  respect.  First  in  impor- 
tance comes  life,  the  very  fact  of  life  itself,  activity  and  the  deed 
done.  Then  follows  the  mind's  appropriation  of  the  deed  done, 
and  after  it  has  passed  into  thought  it  comes  forth  again  in  the 
utterances.  Expression  comes,  fulfils  the  life  of  man  and  feels  all 
life  perpetually  inspiring  it.  No  one  has  a  right  to  study  ex- 
pression until  he  is  conscious  that  behind  expression  lies  thought, 
and  behind  thought  deed  and  action.  Nobody  can  truly  stand 
as  an  utterer  before  the  world  unless  he  is  profoundly  living  and 
honestly  thinking. 

Wherever  Phillips  Brooks  went  now,  he  went  accompanied 
by  a  great  concourse  of  the  people.  He  preached  at  the 
Church  of  the  Incarnation  in  New  York  on  the  Sunday  after 
Ascension  Day.  "  That  is  equivalent  to  saying,"  writes  the 
correspondent  of  a  New  York  paper,  "  that  the  Church  of  the 
Incarnation  was  the  conspicuous  attraction  of  the  day."  On 
October  4,  the  first  Sunday  after  the  opening  of  the  college 
year,  he  was  at  Harvard,  and  the  chapel  was  "  jammed  with 
more  than  fifteen  hundred  people."  His  sermon  was  from 
his  favorite  text,  "  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  and 
that  they  might  have  it  more  abundantly."  Though  he  had 
often  preached  on  the  text,  this  sermon  was  new,  and,  what 
was  now  most  rare,  a  written  sermon.  It  was  also  the  last 
sermon  that  he  would  write,  and  this  was  to  be  his  last  ap- 
pearance in  Appleton  Chapel  as  one  of  the  officers  of  the 


mt.  55]  FAREWELL  SERMONS  867 

University.  The  Necessity  of  Vitality  and  the  Glory  of 
Obedience  was  his  subject.  The  sermon  was  simple,  but 
beneath  it  what  an  ocean  lay  of  human  experience,  what 
depths  of  philosophy,  of  learning,  and  of  wisdom !  He  closed 
with  these  words  :  — 

If  there  is  any  man  of  whom  this  place  makes  a  skeptic  or  a 
profligate,  what  can  we  sadly  say  but  this :  he  was  not  worthy  of 
the  place  to  which  he  came ;  he  was  not  up  to  Harvard  College. 
But  the  man  with  true  soul  cannot  be  ruined  here.  Coming  here, 
humbly,  bravely,  he  shall  meet  his  Christ.  Here  he  shall  come 
into  the  fuller  presence  of  the  Christ  whom  he  has  known  and 
loved  in  the  dear  Christian  home  from  which  he  came,  and  know 
and  love  Him  more  than  ever. 

"I  am  come  to  you,  here  where  men  have  dreaded  and  said 
that  I  could  not  come.  I  am  come  to  you  that  you  may  have 
life,  and  have  it  more  abundantly."  So  speaks  the  Christ  to  the 
students.  Of  such  life,  and  of  brave,  earnest  men  entering  into 
its  richness,  may  this  new  year  of  the  old  College  life  be  full! 

The  transition  to  the  episcopate  called  for  changes  and  for 
sacrifices.  To  sever  his  close  connection  with  Harvard  was  in 
the  nature  of  a  loss,  and  so  he  felt  it  to  be.  There  was  another 
change,  not  so  important,  and  yet  significant ;  he  resigned 
his  position  as  president  of  the  Clericus  Club,  which  he  had 
held  since  its  formation,  feeling  that  while  he  was  at  liberty 
to  retain  his  membership,  it  was  no  longer  becoming  that  he 
should  be  so  closely  identified  with  any  one  organization  of 
the  clergy.  At  a  meeting  of  the  club  on  October  5,  when  his 
resignation  was  to  take  effect,  a  silver  loving  cup  was  pre- 
sented to  him  upon  which  were  engraved  the  names  of  all  its 
active  members. 

On  Sunday,  October  11,  he  stood  in  his  place  at  Trinity 
Church,  —  the  last  Sunday  when  he  should  officiate  as  its 
rector  after  a  ministry  of  twenty-two  years.  There  had  been 
great  days  at  Trinity ;  this  day  also  was  now  to  be  included 
among  them.  The  intense  feeling,  the  common  bond  of  a 
sorrow  that  could  not  be  measured,  the  sense  of  finality,  com- 
bined to  give  every  word  of  the  preacher  unusual  significance 
and  force.  He  must  have  felt  more  than  any  one  the  oppres- 
sive mood  of  the  waiting  congregation.     No  element  of  noto- 


868  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

riety  entered  into  the  occasion.  Those  who  were  present  had 
not  come  out  of  curiosity,  but  from  pure  affection  and  devo- 
tion to  the  man  in  whose  life  a  momentous  transition  had 
been  discerned. 

The  crowd  gathered  long  before  the  hour  of  service  about  the 
closed  doors  of  Trinity,  and  when  they  were  opened  to  the  public, 
so  great  was  the  multitude  every  seat  in  the  galleries  was  taken, 
and  the  aisles  and  corridors  were  crowded  by  an  eager  and  strug- 
gling mass  of  humanity.  Even  the  reporters  of  the  daily  press 
regarded  themselves  as  fortunate  to  get  places  on  the  stairways. 
Double  the  number  of  persons  could  have  been  accommodated 
had  there  been  room  for  them. 

The  sermon  was  marked  by  the  simplicity  of  the  man,  and, 
without  any  formal  farewell,  had  the  essence  of  parting  words. 
The  text  was,  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they 
may  see  your  good  works  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in 
heaven."  From  every  text  he  now  deduced  one  common  mes- 
sage ;  these  words,  he  said,  "  were  words  of  hope,  of  splen- 
dor, and  of  life.  Life  is  love ;  Christ  is  the  great  source  of 
light  and  life.  God  is  forever  seeking  His  children;  no 
depth  is  too  deep  for  Him  to  go  after  you." 

For  these  twenty-two  years  I  have  preached  this  to  you,  and  I 
have  had  no  word  to  say  to  you  but  that  you  are  God's,  and  that 
there  is  no  depth  of  perdition  into  which  you  can  sink,  from 
which  God  will  not  go  after  you  to  lift  you  up.  Give  yourself 
up  to  Him. 

This  was  the  comment  on  the  sermon  by  a  writer  in  the 
Boston  "  Transcript :  "  — 

The  personality  of  the  preacher  and  the  emotions  which  such 
an  occasion  might  have  justified  were  alike  suppressed,  except 
that  here  and  there  they  showed  themselves  in  the  incidental  ex- 
pression and  in  the  enforcement  of  his  appeal.  It  was  an  occa- 
sion in  which  what  was  not  said  was  even  more  impressive  than 
what  was  said.  It  was  manifest  that  the  preacher  was  holding 
back  his  inner  thought,  or  rather  transforming  it  into  that  imper- 
sonal form  in  which  he  could  make  it  most  effective  for  the  end 
which  he  had  in  view.  Dr.  Brooks  rose  to  the  highest  eloquence 
in  thus  sinking  himself  in  the  greatness  of  the  cause  which  he 
was  pleading.     There  were  not  many  unmoved  hearts  or  dry  eyes 


at.  SS~]         FAREWELL   SERMONS  869 

in  that  vast  congregation.  You  could  see  strong  men  trying  to 
control  their  emotion,  and  many  a  woman  hid  her  face  that  she 
might  conceal  her  tears.  .  .  .  The  climax  of  the  sermon  was 
reached  in  the  extempore  prayer  which  followed  at  its  end,  in 
which  the  great  preacher  gathered  up  the  past  and  present  and 
future  work  of  his  people,  and  left  it  in  the  hands  of  God.  The 
congregation  was  suhdued  to  one  thought  and  one  feeling  when 
the  benediction  had  been  pronounced  and  the  organ  sounded  the 
note  of  departure.  It  was  a  parting  with  the  pastoral  relation- 
ship to  a  great  teacher  whose  life  had  entered  deeply  and  spirit- 
ually into  the  hearts  and  thoughts  of  his  people. 

Again  in  the  afternoon  the  same  immense  congregation 
came  for  the  evening  prayers,  and  another  sermon  of  equal 
power  was  preached  from  the  words,  "The  spirit  and  the 
bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth  say,  Come.  And 
he  that  is  athirst,  let  him  come.  He  that  will,  let  him  take 
the  water  of  life  freely." 

These  words  are  full  of  exhilaration  and  hope,  full  of  invita- 
tion and  expectation.  While  they  are  filled  with  the  great  bur- 
den and  sense  of  life,  they  are  also  anticipating  the  life  that  is  to 
come.  With  every  good  healthy  mind  this  is  a  necessity,  that 
everything  which  has  been  bears  in  its  bosom  that  which  is  to  be, 
and  fills  him  with  expectation  and  hope. 

Once  more,  in  the  evening,  he  preached  at  St.  Andrew's 
Church,  attended  there  by  the  same  great  throng  of  hearers. 
"  He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things  "  were  the  words 
of  his  text.  His  life  as  a  parish  minister  was  closing  with 
the  utterance  which  had  been  his  mother's  prayer  for  him  in 
almost  every  letter  she  wrote,  as  he  was  beginning  his  career 
in  the  little  Church  of  the  Advent  in  Philadelphia. 

He  had  been  speaking  to  himself  all  the  day  long  while 
preaching  to  others.  His  words  were  brave  and  uplifting, 
but  his  heart  was  heavy.  "  In  giving  up  Trinity  Church,  I 
know  what  it  must  be  to  die,"  was  the  language  of  his  de- 
spondency. Through  this  waiting  period  of  months,  he  could 
not  escape  from  self-review.  All  his  life  was  passing  be- 
fore him.  He  inwardly  groaned  that  he  might  live  it  over 
again,  and  how  different  it  would  be !  What  would  he  not 
make  of  it,  could  he  have  the  opportunity !     In  the  light  of 


870  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

what  it  might  have  been,  he  was  almost  tempted  to  condemn 
his  life  as  a  failure.  In  the  searching  self-examination 
things  looked  differently  as  one  after  another  they  were  ex- 
posed in  the  strong  search-light  of  the  reality.  All  that  had 
been  unreal,  the  conformity  in  any  degree  to  the  passing  in- 
tellectual fashions  of  the  hour,  rose  up  before  him  for  con- 
demnation. He  saw  that  he  had  not  been  wholly  in  sympa- 
thy with  the  age  and  the  time,  with  its  "  burning  questions," 
whose  solution  contributed  nothing  to  life.  In  this  mood,  he 
refused  to  identify  himself  with  any  attitude  or  purpose  not 
vitally  related  to  Christian  living.  All  the  scaffolding  was 
now  falling  away  from  the  high  tower  of  life,  as  it  stood  re- 
vealed in  splendors  undreamed  of  before.  But  we  may  not 
intrude  further  into  the  agony  of  a  great  soul  at  a  moment 
when  the  consciousness  of  living  had  come  to  the  climax  of 
self-revelation.  He  was  not  given,  we  have  seen  it  now  most 
clearly,  to  speaking  of  his  own  religious  experience.  The 
mask  of  impersonality,  with  which  he  clothed  himself  in  his 
youth  as  a  garment  and  a  panoply,  he  wore  still  to  the  end. 
But  there  is  one,  and  one  only,  of  his  letters,  so  far  as  is 
known,  where  he  drops  the  mask,  and  for  once  speaks  to  tell 
us  only  what  we  know  without  his  telling  it.  It  was  during 
the  days  of  his  trial,  when  his  deeds  and  his  words  were  mis- 
represented, and  his  truth  turned  into  a  lie ;  when  the  Spirit 
was  bearing  witness,  "  He  is  a  chosen  vessel  unto  me,  and  I 
will  show  him  what  great  things  he  must  suffer  for  my  name's 
sake,"  —  it  was  during  those  days  that  he  received  a  letter 
from  a  young  clergyman,  asking  him  to  tell  the  secret  of  his 
life.  He  was  strangely  moved  by  the  request,  and  this  was 
the  letter  he  wrote  in  reply,  to  the  Rev.  Charles  Morris 
Addison,  then  rector  of  Christ  Church,  Fitchburg :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  June  30, 1891. 

Mv  dear  Addison,  —  I  am  sure  you  will  not  think  that  I 
dream  that  I  have  any  secret  to  tell.  I  have  only  the  testimony 
to  bear  which  any  friend  may  fully  bear  to  his  friend  when  he 
is  cordially  asked  for  it,  as  you  have  asked  me. 

Indeed  the  more  I  have  thought  it  over,  the  less  in  some  sense 
I  have  seemed  to  have  to  say.     And  yet  the  more  sure  it  has 


jet.  55]      RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE  871 

seemed  to  me  that  these  last  years  have  had  a  peace  and  fulness 
which  there  did  not  use  to  be.  I  say  it  in  deep  reverence  and 
humility.  I  do  not  think  it  is  the  mere  quietness  of  advancing 
age.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  indifference  to  anything  which  I  used 
to  care  for.  I  am  sure  that  it  is  a  deeper  knowledge  and  truer 
love  of  Christ. 

And  it  seems  to  me  impossible  that  this  should  have  come  in 
any  way  except  by  the  experience  of  life.  I  find  myself  pitying 
the  friends  of  my  youth,  who  died  when  we  were  twenty-five 
years  old,  because  whatever  may  be  the  richness  of  the  life  to 
which  they  have  gone,  and  in  which  they  have  been  living  ever 
since,  they  never  can  know  that  particular  manifestation  of  Christ 
which  He  makes  to  us  here  on  earth,  at  each  successive  period  of 
our  human  life.  All  experience  comes  to  be  but  more  and  more 
of  pressure  of  His  life  on  ours.  It  cannot  come  by  one  flash  of 
light,  or  one  great  convulsive  event.  It  comes  without  haste 
and  without  rest  in  this  perpetual  living  of  our  life  with  Him. 
And  all  the  history,  of  outer  or  inner  life,  of  the  changes  of  cir- 
cumstances, or  the  changes  of  thought,  gets  its  meaning  and 
value  from  this  constantly  growing  relation  to  Christ. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  personal  this  grows  to  me.  He  is  here. 
He  knows  me  and  I  know  Him.  It  is  no  figure  of  speech.  It 
is  the  reallest  thing  in  the  world.  And  every  day  makes  it 
realler.  And  one  wonders  with  delight  what  it  will  grow  to  as 
the  years  go  on. 

The  ministry  in  which  these  years  have  been  spent  seems  to  me 
the  fulfilment  of  life.  It  is  man  living  the  best  human  life  with 
the  greatest  opportunities  of  character  and  service.  And  there- 
fore on  the  ministry  most  closely  may  come  the  pressure  of 
Christ.     Therefore  let  us  thank  God  that  we  are  ministers. 

Less  and  less,  I  think,  grows  the  consciousness  of  seeking  God. 
Greater  and  greater  grows  the  certainty  that  He  is  seeking  us  and 
giving  Himself  to  us  to  the  complete  measure  of  our  present  capa- 
city. That  is  Love,  —  not  that  we  loved  Him,  but  that  He  loved 
us.  I  am  sure  that  we  ought  to  dwell  far  more  upon  God's  love 
for  us  than  on  our  love  for  Him.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  put- 
ting ourselves  in  the  way  of  God's  overflowing  love  and  letting  it 
break  upon  us  till  the  response  of  love  to  Him  comes,  not  by 
struggle,  not  even  by  deliberation,  but  by  necessity,  as  the  echo 
comes  when  the  sound  strikes  the  rock.  And  this  which  must 
have  been  true  wherever  the  soul  of  God  and  the  soul  of  man  have 
lived  is  perfectly  and  finally  manifest  in  the  Christhood  of  which 
it  is  the  heart  and  soul. 

There  is  something  very  rich  and  true  in  the  Bible  talk  about 


872  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891 

"waiting  for  the  Lord."     The  waiting  which  is  meant  (and  we 
know  in  our  own  lives  what  that  waiting  is)  is  having. 

Nothing  but  life  can  reveal  Him  who  is  the  Life,  and  so  we 
cannot  be  impatient,  but  by  and  by  we  are  satisfied,  when  every- 
thing that  happens  to  us,  without  or  within,  comes  to  seem  to  us 
a  new  token  of  His  presence  and  sign  of  His  love. 

I  have  written  fully  and  will  not  even  read  over  what  I  have 
written,  lest  I  should  be  led  to  repent  that  I  have  written  so  much 
about  myself.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  so.  But  your  letter 
moves  me,  and  you  will  understand. 

Some  day  we  will  talk  of  all  these  things.  I  hope  that  you 
will  give  me  the  chance  as  soon  as  you  can. 

Meanwhile,  you  know  how  truly  I  ask  God  to  bless  you,  and 
how  sincerely  I  am 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

In  the  note-book  of  Phillips  Brooks  are  lines  written  at 
this  moment,  written  rapidly  and  without  correction,  and 
given  here  because  they  seem  to  stand  for  some  process  of  his 
inner  life :  — 

The  while  I  listened  came  a  word  — 
I  knew  not  whence,  I  could  not  see  — 

But  when  my  waiting  spirit  heard, 

I  cried,   "  Lord,  here  am  I,  send  me !  " 

For  in  that  word  was  all  contained  — 
The  Master's  wish,  the  servant's  joy, 

Worth  of  the  prize  to  be  attained, 
And  sweetness  of  the  time's  employ. 

I  turned  and  went  —  along  the  way 
That  word  was  food  and  air  and  light ; 

I  feasted  on  it  all  the  day, 

And  rested  on  it  all  the  night. 

I  wondered ;  but  when  soon  I  came 
To  where  the  word  complete  must  be, 

I  called  my  wonder  by  its  name ; 
For  lo !  the  word  I  sought  was  He. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

1891-1892 

consecration  as  bishop.  the  church  congress  at 
washington.  administrative  capacity.  illness, 
lenten  addresses.  union  service  on  good  friday, 
the  convention  address.  correspondence.  summer 
abroad.  english  volume  of  sermons.  return  to 
boston,  st.  Andrew's  brotherhood,  the  general 
convention  in  baltimore.  death  of  tennyson.  cor- 
respondence 

Phillips  Brooks  came  to  the  day  of  his  consecration 
as  bishop  borne  on  a  great  wave  of  human  devotion,  on  the 
flood  of  human  testimony  to  his  singular  gifts  of  the  spirit,  his 
marvellous  greatness  as  a  man.  No  words  were  too  strong  to 
be  used ;  indeed,  words  strong  enough  were  missing  when  the 
attempt  was  made  to  describe  what  he  had  become  to  the 
world.  To  do  justice  to  the  event  by  narrating  it  is  impossi- 
ble, for  one  must  also  include  in  the  event  this  strange  and 
unexampled  outburst  of  gratitude  and  admiration,  which  in 
the  spread  of  its  concentric  circles  took  in,  as  it  seemed,  the 
whole  country.  But  lest  these  words  may  seem  exaggerated, 
let  us  select  from  the  cloud  of  witnesses  one  statement  made 
at  the  moment,  when  the  flood  of  grateful  feeling  was  at  its 
height.  The  following  extract  is  from  the  Boston  "  Adver- 
tiser," whose  editor  possessed  unusual  opportunities  of  know- 
ing the  widespread,  common  sentiment :  — 

Regarding  the  solemnly  impressive  yet  joy-inspiring  services  in 
Trinity  Church  yesterday  morning  [October  14],  it  is  not  possible 
for  any  human  language  to  express  adequately  the  thoughts  and 
emotions  that  rise  in  uncounted  multitudes  of  deeply  stirred 
hearts.  The  elaborate  ceremonial  was  all  that  it  could  be,  mov- 
ing on  from  first  to  last  in  simple  grandeur.     The  place  of  conse- 


874  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

cration  was  itself  an  essential  element,  contributing  no  small 
share  to  the  sacred  splendors  of  the  scene.  We  do  not  mean 
merely  that  the  edifice  within  whose  walls  Phillips  Brooks  re- 
ceived the  vestments  of  a  bishop  was  of  all  churches  in  this 
Commonwealth  most  fitting  by  reason  of  its  architectural  mag- 
nificence, though  that  is  true.  But  the  rudest  tabernacle  ever 
constructed  out  of  rough-hewn  timbers  would  have  been  hardly  less 
fit  if  it  had  been,  as  Trinity  Church  has  been,  the  meeting-place 
for  many  a  year  of  hungry  throngs  to  whom  our  peerless  preacher 
was  wont  to  break  the  bread  of  life.  Nothing  was  absent  that 
could  give  dignity,  and  grace,  and  memorableness ;  neither  pulpit 
oratory,  nor  appropriate  music,  nor  stately  pageantry,  nor  pre- 
sence of  distinguished  men,  nor  participation  of  eminent  prelates, 
nor  long  lines  of  white-robed  priests,  nor  an  audience  wrapped  in 
eager  attentiveness,  limited  in  numbers  only  by  the  inexorable 
limitations  of  space.  Yet  this  was  not  all.  There  were  few,  if 
any,  who  yesterday  had  the  never-to-be-forgotten  privilege  of 
witnessing  the  spectacle  beneath  the  majestic  tower  of  Trinity 
who  did  not  realize  that  the  vast  and  sympathetic  assemblage 
gathered  there  was  but  an  infinitesimal  fraction  of  the  mighty 
mass  of  people  outside,  who  were  there  in  spirit,  who  would  seize 
the  earliest  opportunity  to  read  of  what  had  there  taken  place, 
and  whose  souls  would  unite  in  response  to  the  voices  that  said 
"Amen  "  when  divine  blessings  were  invoked  on  the  newly  made 
bishop.   ... 

The  universal  interest  that  has  for  months  been  felt  in  the  elec- 
tion, confirmation,  and  now  in  the  consecration  of  Phillips  Brooks 
to  be  bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  Massachusetts, 
is  something  phenomenal.  We  need  not  wonder  that  it  causes 
wonder.  It  is  indeed  wonderful.  Nothing  like  it  was  ever 
known  in  America  before.  The  topic  rivals  in  the  public  mind 
all  other  current  themes.  An  exciting  political  campaign  is  not 
more  talked  about,  certainly  not  among  thoughtful  citizens.  For- 
eign news,  big  with  the  fate  of  governments,  and  touching  on 
problems  of  peace  and  war  among  nations,  stirs  not  intelligent 
readers  more  profoundly.  Whoever  would  understand  this  phe- 
nomenon must  look  for  reasons  beyond  all  sectarian  lines,  and  all 
ordinary  personal  factors.  It  is  because  the  Phillips  Brooks  that 
was,  the  Bishop  Brooks  that  is  and  is  to  be,  has  endeared  himself 
to  a  circle  wider  than  any  denomination,  than  all  denominations. 
We  honor  him  who  was  consecrated,  not  chiefly  for  his  eloquence, 
his  learning,  his  achievements  as  pastor  of  a  great  church,  or 
even  for  his  noble  services  as  a  foremost  citizen,  ready  to  speak 
potent  words  on  behalf  of  every  worthy  cause,  within  the  city 


mt.  55-56]     THE  CONSECRATION  875 

and  the  Commonwealth.  It  would  come  nearer  the  secret  to  say 
that  it  is  his  Christian  character,  tried  by  many  tests  and  never 
found  wanting,  that  commands  our  homage.  But  something  more 
must  be  said  before  the  story  is  told. 

Bishop  Brooks  occupies  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  men  that  can 
only  be  described  by  using  the  word  gratitude.  He  has  done  for 
tens  of  thousands  an  inestimable  service.  He  has  unravelled  for 
us  the  solemn  mysteries  of  man's  mission  "on  this  bank  and  shoal 
of  time."  He  has  made  the  fatherhood  of  God  seem  real.  He 
has  made  religion  seem  a  privilege  and  daily  communion  with  the 
divine  nature  a  possibility.  He  has  helped  us  to  believe  in  better 
things  than  we  had  known  before.  He  has  touched  hidden  and 
unsuspected  springs  of  high  ambition.  Life,  to  uncounted  multi- 
tudes, appears  more  worth  living  because  of  the  instruction,  the 
inspiration,  the  example  of  him  whom  henceforth  we  shall  delight 
to,  call  Bishop  Brooks.  Therefore  we  unfeignedly  thank  him  and 
rejoice  with  all  those  that  do  rejoice  in  the  consecration  to  the 
bishopric  of  this  already  consecrated  man. 

Many  were  the  efforts  to  explain  the  "  extraordinary,"  the 
"  unprecedented  "  interest  which  was  felt  in  what  might  be 
considered  in  itself  an  ordinary  ceremonial.  The  study  of 
the  public  mind  in  its  feeling  towards  Phillips  Brooks,  merely 
as  a  psychological  phenomenon,  would  in  itself  possess  high 
value  as  a  revelation  of  some  reserved  power  in  the  Christian 
ministry,  never  so  manifested  before.  For  this  study  there  is 
no  space  here.  It  must  be  sufficient  to  say  that  the  daily 
press  in  the  great  cities  of  the  country,  which  opened  their 
pages  fully  to  those  who  wished  to  speak,  showed  a  singular 
unanimity  of  utterance.  It  was  the  man  in  himself  to  whom 
the  honor  was  now  paid,  the  man  who  had  embodied  in  his 
life  what  he  taught. 

He  illustrates  [said  one  of  another  religious  communion]  the 
meaning  of  the  word  Christian.  Foremost  in  sympathy  with  the 
world's  best  thinking  and  feeling,  yet  with  the  rare  gift  of  allay- 
ing men's  prejudices,  the  burden  of  his  preaching  is  grandly  the 
same  as  that  of  apostles,  martyrs,  reformers,  throughout  the  ages. 
He  is  a  powerful  example  of  one  possessing  regal  intellect,  famil- 
iar with  critical  theories  and  the  research  of  scholars,  who  does 
not  forget  what  preaching  is.  His  one  great  theme  is  Christ, 
salvation  and  righteousness  in  and  through  a  person.  The  value 
of  his  example  is  in  this  one  respect  priceless. 


876  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

Here  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  to  him  written  by  a  work- 
ingman,  who  calls  himself  "  one  of  the  crowd  who  do  not  go 
to  church,  yet  am  consciously  better  because  you  are  here." 

I  wonder  if  you  have  any  sort  of  conception  how  many  there 
are  of  us  who  are  made  better  and  try  to  be  more  useful  as  a 
result  of  your  example.  To  me  you  reveal  God  as  no  other  man 
does.  What  I  mean  by  that  is,  I  can't  think  of  you  for  ten  con- 
secutive minutes  without  forgetting  all  about  you  and  thinking 
of  God  instead;  and  when  I  think  of  God  and  wonder  how  He 
will  seem  to  me,  it  always  comes  round  to  trying  to  conceive  of 
you  enlarged  infinitely  in  every  way. 

If  we  may  look  for  an  historical  precedent  Phillips  Brooks 
was  now  becoming  to  his  age  what  once  St.  Francis  of  Assisi 
had  been,  an  ideal  so  lofty  that  when  men  thought  of  him 
there  was  a  tendency  to  speak  of  him  as  a  second  Christ ;  for 
in  him  Christ  had  been  felt  to  live  again  and  exert  his  power 
in  the  modern  world.  To  criticise  the  expression  of  the  popu- 
lar feeling,  whether  or  not  it  went  beyond  bounds  in  its  devo- 
tion, is  not  of  so  much  importance  as  to  chronicle  the  fact. 
This  tendency  is  manifest  in  the  tributes  of  poetry,  to  which 
people  now  resorted  as  the  best  vehicle  of  exalted  emotion. 
It  was  a  mood  destined  from  this  time  to  grow  stronger  till  it 
reached  its  culmination. 

Some  such  mood  underlies  and  explains  the  demonstrations 
of  affection  which  now  went  forth  to  Phillips  Brooks.  People 
wondered  that  they  should  feel  as  they  did,  but  made  no 
effort  to  conceal  the  feeling.  In  Puritan  New  England,  in 
Boston  even,  all  vestige  of  prejudice  against  a  bishop  seemed 
to  have  faded  away.  The  old  feeling  indeed  was  recalled, 
how  Massachusetts  had  once  proposed  to  deal  with  a  bishop 
in  case  one  were  sent  to  them  from  England ;  how  Governor 
Andros  forcibly  took  possession  of  the  Old  South  Church  in 
order  to  give  episcopacy  a  footing  in  Boston  ;  but  these  things 
were  recalled  only  to  preface  the  comment  that  Phillips 
Brooks  was  now  to  be  a  bishop  to  them  all. 

Seldom  [writes  a  Congregational  minister]  has  anything  oc- 
curred in  religious  history  in  which  the  "Universal  Church"  has 
been  so  much  interested  as  in  the  consecration  of  Phillips  Brooks 


jet.  55-56]    THE  CONSECRATION  877 

to  the  episcopate.  All  of  us  might  accept  the  "historic  episco- 
pate "  as  he  would  define  and  will  emhody  it.  No  denomination 
can  wholly  claim  such  a  man ;  he  is  a  bishop  for  us  all.  Few 
will  speak  of  him  as  Bishop  Brooks;  many  will  delight  to  call 
him  Phillips  Brooks,  the  bishop. 

We  leave  these  testimonies,  taking  a  few  as  samples  of  a 
large  number,  with  the  remark  that  Phillips  Brooks  had 
demonstrated  the  desire  of  the  Christian  world  for  unity  and 
the  universal  instinct  which  calls  for  a  leader ;  how  men  are 
only  too  ready  to  follow  when  the  heaven-sent  leader  comes. 
Upon  the  consecration  service  we  cannot  dwell.  The  crowd 
took  possession  of  Copley  Square  long  before  the  service 
began  on  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  October  14.  The  day, 
which  opened  with  clouds  and  threats  of  inopportune  weather, 
developed  into  one  of  sunlight  and  beauty.  In  the  robing- 
room  of  Trinity  Church  were  gathered  the  bishops  who  were 
to  officiate :  Bishop  Williams,  of  Connecticut,  the  presiding 
bishop,  who  was  to  act  as  consecrator;  Bishop  Doane,  of 
Albany ;  Bishop  Littlejohn,  of  Long  Island  ;  Bishop  Howe, 
of  Central  Pennsylvania ;  Bishop  Niles,  of  New  Hampshire  ; 
Bishop  Clark,  of  Rhode  Island,  and  Bishop  Whipple,  of  Min- 
nesota, who  had  been  chosen  by  the  bishop-elect  to  act  as  his 
presenters ;  Bishop  Potter,  of  New  York,  who  was  to  preach 
the  sermon ;  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks  and  Rev.  John  Cotton 
Brooks,  who  were  to  be  the  attendant  presbyters.  In  the 
chapel  of  Trinity  were  some  four  hundred  clergy,  of  whom  a 
third  were  visitors  from  other  dioceses.  Just  before  the  pro- 
cession started,  a  protest  against  the  consecration  was  read, 
signed  by  two  bishops,  and  then  the  signal  was  given  for  the 
organ,  and  the  procession  moved  to  the  west  entrance  of  the 
church,  and  the  hymns  sung  were  "  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord 
God  Almighty"  and  "  The  God  of  Abraham  praise."  It  was 
a  state  and  civic  event  as  well  as  an  ecclesiastical :  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Commonwealth,  the  mayor  of  Boston,  and  the 
president  of  Harvard  College  had  been  invited  as  honored 
guests,  and  the  city  of  Boston  had  sent  flowers  for  the  deco- 
ration of  the  church  within  and  around  the  portals.  Seven- 
teen hundred  tickets  had  been  issued,  with  great  care  that  all 
diocesan  and  other  interests  should  be  represented. 


878  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

The  service  was  impressive,  as  only  the  Anglican  ritual  can 
make  it,  simple  and  direct,  with  no  alien  accessories,  a  ser- 
vice filling  and  satisfying  the  imagination.  Some  of  the 
details  may  be  mentioned,  the  sermon  by  Bishop  Potter, 
praised  by  all  as  eloquent  and  felicitous,  and  especially  the 
closing  words  to  the  bishop-elect,  which  only  the  preacher 
could  have  spoken,  —  the  allusion  to  the  Virginia  seminary, 
where  together  they  prepared  for  the  ministry.  There  was 
one  incident  noted  by  all,  for  it  seemed  to  move  the  bishop- 
elect,  —  a  reminder  of  the  fiery  trial  through  which  he  had 
passed:  when,  throwing  back  his  head  and  expanding  his 
figure  to  its  full  proportions,  he  made  the  promise  of  con- 
formity :  "  I,  Phillips  Brooks,  chosen  Bishop  of  the  Protes- 
tant Episcopal  Church  in  Massachusetts,  do  promise  con- 
formity and  obedience  to  the  Doctrine,  Discipline,  and 
Worship  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the  United 
States  of  America.     So  help  me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ." 

Many  were  the  comments  on  that  scene,  for  it  moved  the 
hearts  of  all  who  witnessed  it. 

Who,  of  all  the  vast  congregation  present  at  his  consecration 
[wrote  Bishop  Williams],  as  they  heard  him,  looking  up  to  heaven, 
utter  with  a  solemnity  that  thrilled  all  hearts  those  awful  words, 
"So  help  me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ,"  which  end  the  bishop's 
promise  of  conformity,  —  who  that  heard  the  equal  solemnity  of 
the  answers  given  to  the  questions  which  are  put  to  every  bishop 
before  hands  are  laid  upon  him,  could  have  doubted  the  depth  of 
his  conviction  as  to  the  place  of  the  episcopate  in  the  economy  of 
Christ's  kingdom,  or  his  own  determination  to  administer  it  as 
this  Church  has  received  it  from  all  the  Christian  ages?  Who 
that  heard  his  voice,  as  he  joined  in  the  utterance  of  the  Nicene 
Symbol,  could  have  questioned  his  unshaken  conviction  that  our 
blessed  Lord  was  God  as  well  as  Man?  I  venture  to  answer,  No 
man. 

After  the  consecration,  Bishop  Williams  took  Bishop 
Brooks  by  the  hand  and  led  him  into  his  own  chancel.  It  all 
seemed  strange  and  bewildering  that  Phillips  Brooks  should 
sit  in  his  own  church  listening  to  the  sermon  of  another,  and 
then  be  conducted  by  another  to  the  sacred  place  where  for 
so  many  years  he  had  stood  to  administer  the  Lord's  Supper. 


jet.  55-56]        CORRESPONDENCE  879 

There  was  joy  in  the  occasion,  but  also  profound,  unspeakable 
sorrow,  for  the  sense  of  a  parting  scene  mingled  with  the  con- 
gratulations, and  in  the  minds  of  the  people  of  Trinity  Church 
was  uppermost.  What  it  all  might  mean  no  one  could  tell. 
Only  he  wanted  it,  and  was  willing  to  take  the  office,  and 
therefore  it  must  be  right  that  he  should  do  so.  There  must 
be  some  enlargement  for  him,  some  more  appropriate  setting 
of  his  greatness.  A  lady  who  was  present  from  Philadelphia 
wrote  him,  "  It  seemed  like  living  over  again  the  parting  from 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity."  To  Mr.  A.  J.  C.  Sowdon, 
the  new  bishop  wrote  this  note  on  the  following  day :  — 

October  15,  1891. 
Dear  Sowdon,  —  I  cannot  help  thanking  you  with  all  my 
heart  for  yesterday.  Everybody  is  saying  with  what  wonderful 
judgment  and  power  all  was  arranged  and  carried  out.  I  am  still 
more  rejoiced  that  it  was  done  by  you  and  done  with  such  spirit 
of  kindness  to  your  old  friend.  It  will  be  a  joy  to  remember  it 
and  to  be  grateful  for  it  always. 

Yours  ever,  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  wardens  and  vestry  of  Trinity  Church  had  made  a 
generous  arrangement  with  the  diocese  by  which  no  change 
of  residence  would  be  required,  and  the  beautiful  home  on 
Clarendon  Street  should  still  be  his.  Acknowledging  his 
gratitude,  he  writes  to  Mr.  C.  J.  Morrill  who  had  been  active 
in  securing  this  result,  with  whom,  indeed,  the  suggestion  of 
building  a  rectory  had  originated,  and  who  had  persevered 
in  the  plan  despite  the  rector's  reluctance  and  even  opposi- 
tion :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  October  15, 1891. 

Dear  Mr.  Morrill,  — Nothing  which  Trinity  Church  could 
do  could  be  so  generous  and  considerate  as  to  surprise  me.  And 
yet  the  great  gift  which  your  letter  brings  fills  me  with  a  grati- 
tude which  I  cannot  express. 

All  which  these  long  and  happy  years  have  meant  to  me  is 
very  present  to  me  now.  The  service  yesterday  in  the  dear  and 
familiar  church  was  not  only  the  opening  of  the  future,  but  the 
gathering  up  of  all  the  past.  That  past  can  never  be  left  behind. 
It  goes  with  me  into  all  the  days  to  come.  All  the  kindness  and 
loyalty  and  helpfulness  of  my  people  has  passed  into  my  life  and 
will  be  part  of  it  till  I  die,  and  always. 


880  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

Will  you  tell  the  wardens  and  vestry  how  I  thank  them  for 
this  token  of  their  care  for  me?  I  pray  that  I  may  be  such  a 
bishop  that  they  shall  not  seem  to  have  trusted  me  in  vain. 

Will  you  yourself  accept  anew  the  assurance  of  my  affectionate 
regard,  and  count  me  always, 

Faithfully  your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  the  Rt.  Rev.  Henry  C.  Potter  he  writes  :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  October  16, 1891. 

My  dear  Henry,  —  I  cannot  let  these  days  pass  without 
thanking  you  for  Wednesday.  I  feel  how  good  and  kind  it  was 
of  you  to  come,  and  when  you  had  come,  that  you  should  say 
such  words  as  you  did  say  gives  me  great  satisfaction  and  delight, 
and  will  always  make  the  day  shine  in  my  memory. 

You  will  know  how  peculiarly  near  my  heart  come  those  last 
words  of  brotherly  greeting  and  affection.  Everybody  felt  their 
graciousness  and  beauty.  It  was  mine  to  feel  also  how  much  of 
long-treasured  association  and  of  a  kindness  which  has  never 
failed  was  gathered  in  them.  May  God  bless  you  for  them. 
There  could  not  be  a  brighter  gate  through  which  to  enter  the 
new  land.  I  shall  be  a  better  bishop  for  them.  The  thing  has 
drawn  itself  out  so  long  that  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  it  is  over. 
But  the  change  of  daily  occupation  reminds  me  constantly  that  I 
am  a  bishop,  and  is  rapidly  making  the  new  name  familiar. 

There  is  no  wild  exhilaration  about  it,  but  a  quiet  content  that 
it  is  all  right,  and  an  anticipation  of  the  work  as  full  of  interest 
and  satisfaction. 

I  shall  be  coming  down  on  you  for  good  advice  and  the  permis- 
sion to  drink  out  of  the  full  river  of  your  long  experience.  This 
before  long,  no  doubt ;  but  now  only  my  gratitude  for  all  that  you 
have  done  for  me  this  week,  and  my  assurance  that  you  have 
made  the  change  from  the  old  life  into  the  new  as  happy  as  it 
could  be  made. 

For  all  of  this,  and  for  the  years  that  have  been,  and  the  years 
that  are  to  be,  I  thank  you,  and  am  ever, 

Yours  affectionately,  Phillips  Brooks. 

In  his  note-book  is  to  be  found  this  reference  to  the  tran- 
sition and  its  accompanying  consciousness :  — 

The  quiet,  natural  change  of  consciousness  and  thought  in  view 
of  the  episcopate. 

Compare  with  the  change  from  lay  to  clerical  life.  Of  the 
same  sort,  though  of  less  distinctness  and  importance. 


jet.  55-56]  THE  BISHOP  881 

The  difference  from  the  English  Episcopate  (cf .  Life  of  Arch- 
bishop Tait). 

The  first  Sunday  was  spent  in  Salem  with  Rev.  James  P. 
Franks,  who  was  in  deep  bereavement.  The  sermon,  at 
Grace  Church,  was  one  already  alluded  to,  with  the  title, 
"  The  Egyptians  dead  upon  the  Seashore."  After  nearly  two 
weeks  had  elapsed  of  episcopal  visitations,  he  met  the  Epis- 
copalian Club  in  Boston,  October  27,  and  his  presence  was 
the  centijQ  feature  of  the  evening. 

If  there  ever  comes  to  Phillips  Brooks  [said  a  writer  in  the 
Boston  Herald]  the  thought  that  in  lacking  the  love  of  wife 
and  the  caresses  of  children,  life's  cup  still  wants  a  little  of  being 
full  to  the  brim,  there  must  come  other  times  which  bring  their 
measure  of  compensation;  times  when  the  admiration  and  honor 
and  love  which  flows  for  him  from  the  hearts  of  all  men  who 
know  him,  pours  itself  in  a  flood  about  his  feet  and  washes  away 
everything  but  high  aim  and  consecration  and  singleness  of  devo- 
tion to  his  work.     Last  night  was  such  a  time. 

In  the  address  which  he  made  to  this  large  and  representa- 
tive assembly  of  laymen,  the  bishop  was  deeply  moved :  — 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  full  my  heart  is,  and  how  earnestly  I 
wish  to  do  all  in  my  power  for  the  Church  in  this  dear  old  State 
of  Massachusetts.  She  gave  me  birth  and  education,  and  all 
that  has  gone  to  make  a  supremely  happy  life.  I  love  her  rugged 
landscape,  her  blue  skies,  her  rich  history;  and  out  of  her  soil 
came  the  men  who  made  her  what  she  is.  But  I  am  no  Massa- 
chusetts bigot.  I  am  ready  to  welcome  the  newcomers  among 
us.  The  Episcopal  Church  in  Massachusetts  must  work  in  the 
line  of  Massachusetts  people  and  the  Massachusetts  character.  It 
must  become  a  part  of  the  New  England  life  and  make  that  life 
nobler,  —  so  noble  that  we  shall  dare  to  say  that  there  is  nothing 
nobler  in  all  the  world,  if  only  it  may  be  touched  with  some  finer 
radiance  from  this  dear  old  Church  of  ours. 

These  were  a  few  of  the  sentences,  as  reported  in  the  Bos- 
ton "  Herald,"  of  a  speech  which  in  its  entirety  has  not  been 
preserved.  Of  this  speech,  one  of  the  laymen  present,  Mr. 
A.  J.  C.  Sowdon,  writes :  — 

The  sweep,  the  breadth  of  religious  statesmanship  evinced,  the 
manner  in  which  he  magnified  his  office  and  its  possibilities,  and 

VOL.   II 


882  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

took  in  the  whole  problem,  the  fervent  patriotism  in  which  he 
spoke  of  the  Commonwealth  he  so  loved,  and  the  passionate  lan- 
guage, the  graphic  picture  he  drew  of  what  one  Church  could  and 
ought  to  do  for  the  Commonwealth,  —  all  these  made  us  who 
were  present  feel  that  we  had  literally  heard  his  very  best  and 
greatest  effort.  The  pity  of  it  is  that  there  was  only  an  ordinary 
newspaper  report  of  the  speech. 

From  this  time  Phillips  Brooks  plunged  into  the  multi- 
plicity of  duties  and  engagements  which  appertain  to  a 
bishop's  office.  He  was  addressed  by  a  clergyman  of  large 
experience,  Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale  :  — 

I  am  older  than  you,  can  advise  you.  Begin  slowly.  Let 
things  present  themselves  in  order,  and  do  not  try  to  make  an 
order  for  them.  After  you  have  thus  accepted  for  a  little,  what 
is,  —  you  will  be  able  to  raise  everything  and  see  what  may  be. 

But  he  does  not  seem  to  have  heeded  the  advice:  other 
words  were  ringing  in  his  ears,  "  Work  while  the  day  lasts ; 
the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work."  That  from  the 
first  there  was  a  tendency  to  overtax  his  strength,  now,  alas, 
no  longer  what  it  was,  or  what  at  his  age  it  should  have  been, 
might  be  inferred  from  the  following  letter,  after  he  had 
been  in  his  new  office  but  two  weeks  :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  2, 1891. 
Dear  Mrs.  Paine,  —  You  do  not  know  how  grateful  I  am  for 
your  kind  token  that  I  am  not  forg^ten.      Life  is  so  terribly 
convulsed  and  changed  that  it  seems  incredible  that  the  old  friends 
are  there  and  are  caring  for  me  still. 

But  I  know  you  do  and  always  will.  By  and  by,  some  day, 
I  shall  see  you  again.  Till  then,  and  always,  you  will  all  know 
how  I  am, 

Affectionately  and  gratefully, 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

On  November  3  he  went  to  the  annual  matriculation  of  the 
Episcopal  Theological  School.  As  he  spoke  to  the  students, 
his  own  experience  in  the  seminary  at  Alexandria  must  have 
inspired  him. 

Here,  in  the  seminary  life,  Christian  truth  and  faith  come  into 
relation.  There  is  no  struggle  between  thought  and  work.  Some 
abandon  work  for  thought;   others   abandon  thought  for  work. 


jet.  55-56]  THE  BISHOP  883 

Never  look  upon  your  work  as  a  refuge  from  thought,  hut  express 
your  thought  in  your  work.  Shrink  from  nothing  God  shall 
reveal  to  you.  Trust  yourself  to  Him  wherever  He  shall  lead 
you.  He  watches  over  mind  and  soul.  He  does  not  separate 
them  and  make  them  weak  concessions  of  one  to  the  other.  Your 
seminary  life  is  a  going  aside  for  three  years  with  Christ,  to 
drink  in  His  spirit  and  to  commune  with  Him.  As  you  open 
your  New  Testament  He  says  to  you,  "This  is  who  I  am." 
When  you  study  church  history,  He  says,  "This  is  hut  a  history 
of  me."  In  psychology  He  says  to  you,  "I  saved  this  humanity 
by  wearing  it." 

One  of  the  first  incidents  in  his  new  life  was  the  call  to 
preside  as  bishop  at  the  Church  Congress  to  be  held  in  Wash- 
ington in  November,  where  he  should  make  the  Communion 
Address  at  its  formal  opening.  It  was  now  suggested  to  him 
that  he  should  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  declare,  as 
he  might  most  germanely,  his  belief  in  the  "  miraculous  In- 
carnation and  real  resurrection  of  our  Lord."  If  he  would 
consent  it  would  do  much,  so  he  was  told,  to  "  convince  the 
gainsayers."  Those  high  in  station  and  whose  opinion  he 
valued,  urged  him  strongly  to  this  course.  Scriptural  prece- 
dent was  adduced,  —  the  apostle  bids  us  comfort  the  feeble- 
minded. It  was  another  incentive  brought  to  bear  upon  him 
that  he  owed  something  to  the  chivalric  friendship  of  his 
brethren  in  the  episcopate,  who  differed  so  widely  from  him, 
yet  had  made  sacrifices  to  insure  his  confirmation  ;  the  sacri- 
fices should  not  be  all  on  one  side.  Bishop  Clark,  who  was 
the  go-between  of  those  who  wished  to  approach  Phillips 
Brooks,  wrote  urging  that  he  should  follow  this  advice.  But 
he  firmly  and  even  vehemently  refused.  As  we  know  Phil- 
lips Brooks,  it  was  impossible  that  he  should  do  otherwise. 
To  take  the  occasion  of  a  Communion  Address  in  order  to 
speak,  as  it  were,  "  to  the  galleries,"  and  be  setting  right  his 
own  reputation,  was  abhorrent.  That  he  should  be  asked 
to  take  so  solemn  a  moment  for  such  a  statement  was  bad 
enough;  that  he  should  acquiesce  and  make  the  statement 
would  have  been  a  blunder.  It  would  have  neutralized  the 
value  of  his  silence  while  the  question  of  his  election  was 
pending.     It  would  also  have  been  a  failure  in  its  object,  and 


884  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

would  have  quieted  no  one.  What  was  really  wanted  from 
him  was  an  apology  for  his  association  in  religious  services 
with  Unitarians,  and  his  promise  to  offend  no  more.  That, 
as  we  shall  see,  he  consistently  refused  to  make.  So  Bishop 
Clark  found  his  protege  refractory.  Several  times  had  his 
good  offers  been  declined.  He  had  gently  suggested  to  Phil- 
lips Brooks  that  as  a  bishop  it  might  be  more  becoming  if  he 
adopted  the  conventional  dress  of  the  clergy.  To  this  appeal 
Phillips  Brooks  had  replied,  "  Now,  Mr.  Clark,  you  know 
very  well  it  was  Henry  Potter  who  put  you  up  to  giving  me 
that  advice."  The  following  letter  of  Bishop  Clark  shows  at 
least  he  was  not  offended  by  the  rejection  of  his  good  offices :  — 

Providence,  November  4,  1891. 

My  dear  Brother  Brooks,  —  I  am  a  little  bit  sorry  that 
you  found  my  letter;  not  that  it  contains  anything  that  I  would 
revoke,  for  I  still  think  it  would  be  right  and  proper  for  you  to 
say  at  the  Church  Congress  the  words  you  would  be  most  natu- 
rally inclined  to  say,  even  if  they  did  tend  to  allay  the  anxieties 
of  certain  good  people,  whose  minds  have  been  prejudiced  by  a 
persistent  series  of  misrepresentations.  As  I  intimated  in  my 
last  letter,  I  was  afraid  that  you  would  reply  just  as  you  have 
done,  because  I  knew  that  you  stand  upon  a  very  lofty  moral 
pedestal  and  have  a  special  aversion  to  all  shams  and  pretences. 
As  I  happen  to  occupy  a  lower  plane,  perhaps  I  might  be  willing 
to  do  what  you  would  decline  doing. 

The  vehemence  of  your  first  letter  I  admired  very  much;  it 
was  one  of  the  chief  attractions  of  the  epistle.  The  lion  always 
appears  at  his  best  when  he  is  in  a  righteous  rage.  One  lesson, 
however,  I  have  learned,  and  that  is  to  abstain  from  any  further 
interference,  and  let  other  people  roast  their  own  chestnuts. 

And  so,  henceforth,  beloved  Brother,  go  thine  own  way.  I 
will  disturb  thee  no  more.  Prudent  or  imprudent,  silent  or  out- 
spoken, deliberate  or  not,  thou  art  likely  to  come  out  all  right  in 
the  end.  I  assume  no  longer  the  post  of  guide,  philosopher,  and 
friend,  confining  myself  entirely  to  the  latter  function.  But  if, 
in  thy  comet-like  sweep  through  the  heavens,  thou  shouldest  ever 
find  thyself  in  a  tight  place  among  the  suns,  and  the  stars,  and 
the  planets,  and  the  little  ecclesiastical  moons,  I  shall  always  be 
at  thy  service. 

Just  as  affectionately  yours  as  ever,  and  a  little  more  so, 

Thomas  M.  Clark. 


jet.  SSS6!  THE  BISHOP  885 

He  prepared  his  address  for  the  Church  Congress,  there- 
fore, without  any,  the  slightest,  allusion  that  could  be  con- 
strued as  explanatory  or  apologetic.  He  still  felt  about 
church  congresses  as  in  his  earlier  years.  In  writing  to  Rev. 
Arthur  Brooks  about  the  arrangement  for  trains,  he  adds :  — 

But  the  Congress  is  the  great  thing.  Let  us  cast  dull  care 
away  and  go  in  for  enjoyment.  For  the  Church  needs  us  radical 
old  fellows  to  keep  the  conservatism  of  its  young  men  from  rot- 
ting, and  we  must  take  good  care  of  our  health. 

The  city  of  Washington  was  moved  at  his  coming.  In 
the  large  edifice,  Epiphany  Church,  crowded  to  the  doors, 
there  was  no  standing  room.  Not  even  the  drizzling  rain 
deterred  the  people  from  waiting  an  hour  before  the  doors 
were  opened.  The  address  was  beautiful  in  its  simplicity 
and  adaptedness :  "  Jesus  seeing  their  faith  said  unto  the  sick 
of  the  palsy,  Son,  be  of  good  cheer,  thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee." 

Phillips  Brooks  entered  upon  his  work  as  a  bishop  with 
enthusiasm  and  in  a  spirit  of  entire  self-consecration.  It  was 
the  culmination  of  that  phase  in  his  life,  beginning  after  his 
return  from  India,  when  he  resolved  to  "  abase  "  himself  in 
order  to  "  abound."  He  believed  that  the  best  part  of  his 
work  as  a  Christian  minister  would  be  conserved  in  the  epis- 
copate. So  he  had  written  to  his  friends.  The  unanimity 
of  all  his  friends,  or  at  least  the  great  majority  of  them,  and 
the  voice  also  of  all  the  people,  confirmed  him  in  the  convic- 
tion that  he  was  right  in  accepting  the  office.  The  letters  of 
congratulation  continued  to  come  in  for  many  weeks  after  his 
consecration.  From  India  and  Japan  and  China,  from  France 
and  Switzerland,  his  friends  were  writing  in  a  tone  of  jubi- 
lation, in  the  expectancy  of  greater  things  that  he  would  do. 
This  was  also  the  uniform  conviction  of  the  host  of  his  friends 
in  England.  They  sympathized  in  the  change,  as  if  it  brought 
to  the  whole  Anglican  Church  a  higher  prospect  of  useful- 
ness. Thus  his  friend  Professor  James  Bryce,  who  saw  in  his 
growing  influence  some  special  significance  for  the  future  of 
American  life,  writes  him  how  all  his  "  English  friends  feel 
greater  confidence  in  the  future  of  the  American  Episcopal 


886  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

Church  now  that  he  will  be   officially  connected  with  its 
guides."     But  Mr.  Bryce  adds  also  a  caution  :  — 

I  hope  the  duties  of  an  active  kind  may  not,  as  happens  with 
bishops  here,  trench  too  heavily  on  the  time  you  have  hitherto 
given  to  reading  and  thinking;  for  even  the  authority  the  office 
gives  to  guide  church  deliberations  might  be  ill  purchased  by  the 
loss  of  quiet  times. 

Bishop  Brooks  needed  the  encouragement  that  his  friends 
could  now  give  him  by  letter  or  otherwise.  He  was  a  man 
without  personal  conceit,  of  entire  humbleness  of  heart,  —  the 
heart  of  a  simple  child,  though  accompanied  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  power.  He  took  up  his  new  work,  therefore,  in 
joy  and  gladness.  Never  had  he  been  happier  in  his  life 
than  now.  The  serenity  of  his  spirit  was  manifest.  He  had 
learned  the  lesson  of  Christ,  how  when  he  was  reviled  to 
revile  not  again.  He  was  determined  that  all  should  be  his 
friends  among  clergy  and  laity,  and  to  allow  no  opening  for 
enmities.  His  happiness  showed  itself  in  many  ways,  —  in  his 
note-books,  where  he  begins  again,  as  in  his  youth,  to  record 
his  thoughts,  as  if  life  were  opening  anew  before  him.  Then, 
too,  it  was  a  vast  relief,  and  he  alone  best  appreciated  it,  that 
he  was  free  at  last  from  the  burden  of  the  parish  minister, 
which  had  simply  become  greater  than  he  could  bear.  The 
task  of  preaching  might  now  be  reduced  within  limits  that 
would  no  longer  exhaust  his  physical  vitality.  It  seemed  at 
first,  despite  the  multiplicity  of  engagements,  that  he  had 
more  time  at  his  disposal  than  before  for  reading  and  quiet 
thinking.  He  carried  books  with  him  as  he  went  on  his  epis- 
copal visitations.  He  loved  to  travel,  it  must  be  admitted, 
to  go  into  new  towns  and  places,  to  become  acquainted  with 
people,  to  visit  a  hundred  homes  where  he  had  the  privilege 
of  being  admitted  as  guest.  It  all  seemed  very  delightful. 
He  could  not  believe  that  his  work  would  ever  become  per- 
functory. When  he  was  told  that  the  recitation  of  the  bish- 
op's formula  in  the  confirmation  office  tended  to  formality, 
he  would  not  believe  that  he  could  ever  be  unsympathetic  at 
the  sound  of  those  little  words,  "  I  do,"  coming  from  young 
hearts  at  a  great  moment  in  their  lives. 


Phillips  Brooks 


.  '/■/.  5, ; 


mt.  55-56]  THE  BISHOP  887 

He  now  showed  that  he  possessed  a  capacity  for  the  admin- 
istration of  affairs  which  some  had  doubted.  It  is  the  testi- 
mony of  Bishop  Lawrence,  than  whom  no  one  is  more  com- 
petent to  speak,  that  he  excelled  in  executive  ability.  He 
soon  mastered  the  details  of  the  office,  carrying  them  with 
ease  in  his  capacious  mind.  There  was  some  latent  power 
in  him  in  this  respect,  needing  only  the  quick  call  of  duty 
and  the  responsibility  of  his  position  for  its  development.  A 
business  man  in  Philadelphia,  one  of  his  parishioners,  had 
once  said  of  him  that  he  was  capable  of  taking  charge  of  the 
largest  business  corporations  in  the  country,  and  that  if  he 
gave  his  mind  to  such  work  he  could  not  be  excelled  in  effi- 
ciency. Nor  did  these  affairs  of  the  diocese,  numerous  and 
perplexing  as  they  were,  harass  him  or  vex  his  peace  of  mind. 
But  one  thing  would  be  true  of  him,  that  he  would  slight  or 
neglect  nothing,  or  relax  his  disposition  to  aid  by  any  means 
in  his  power  those  who  appealed  to  him.  There  came  at  once 
hundreds  of  appeals  from  clergymen  for  admission  to  the 
diocese  ;  he  was  called  upon  to  adjust  difficulties  in  parishes ; 
to  offer  advice  upon  every  conceivable  subject.  There  were 
many  drains  upon  his  sympathy.  The  church  must  have 
looked  very  differently  to  him  in  this  nearer  view  from  what 
it  had  done  when  he  gazed  at  it  from  the  pulpit  and  saw  only 
the  crowds  of  eager  listeners  to  his  words. 

He  showed  a  tendency,  also  says  Bishop  Lawrence,  to  be 
a  strict,  even  a  rigid  canonist.  There  was  no  laxity  in  him, 
no  inclination  to  leave  things  at  loose  ends.  This  disposition 
was  plainly  manifested  in  his  dealings  with  Candidates  for 
Orders.  He  wished  it  to  be  understood  that  they  were  to 
go,  when  ordered  deacons,  where  he  should  send  them.  There 
would  be  no  relaxation  of  this  rule.  "  I  pity  them,  but  they 
have  got  to  go."  He  believed  in  government  in  church  or 
state,  and  that  government  was  a  divine  ordering,  not  the  ar- 
rangement of  a  committee.  In  an  address  to  the  students  of 
the  Theological  School  in  Cambridge,  he  was  very  practical 
in  his  suggestions.  The  first  point  he  made  was  in  regard  to 
legibility  of  handwriting.  "  Small  causes  lead  to  great  fail- 
ures."    But  he  soon  sailed  out  on  the  ocean  of  principles : 


888  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

"  Promptness  must  come  from  fulness.  Get  everything 
bigger." 

He  talked,  said  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  "  as  if  he  had 
some  large  plans  in  contemplation  for  the  extension  of  the 
church's  work  and  usefulness,  and  was  not  going  into  it 
vaguely."  He  sent  to  the  State  House  for  "any  books  or 
documents  which  would  give  information  as  to  the  population, 
and  the  character  of  the  population,  in  the  various  towns  and 
cities  of  our  Commonwealth."  He  was  studying  the  State  of 
Massachusetts  in  its  relation  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  the 
causes  which  had  hindered  its  growth,  the  motive  of  its 
strongest  appeal.  Of  his  three  immediate  predecessors  in  the 
episcopal  office,  not  one  had  been  a  Massachusetts  man  by 
birth  or  education.  That  was  his  advantage,  and  he  well  un- 
derstood it.  He  honored  and  he  loved  Massachusetts,  know- 
ing how  to  draw  a  response  from  its  inmost  soul,  or  to  place 
his  finger  on  its  pulse  and  read  the  beatings  of  its  heart.  By 
natural  descent  he  was  a  Puritan  of  the  Puritans,  and  all  this 
was  in  him  still,  yet  joined  with  other  forces  and  tendencies 
which  came  of  the  distinctive  training  from  his  childhood  in 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  He  was  asking  himself  as  to 
the  place  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  what  message  it  brought, 
and  how  that  message  should  be  presented  to  a  common 
Christendom. 

He  was  scrupulous  at  first  to  follow  the  usages  of  his  pre- 
decessor. Wherever  he  went  he  found  that  Bishop  Paddock 
had  left  a  sacred  and  healing  influence  behind.  To  do  what 
he  was  wanted  to  do,  and  to  do  it  in  the  way  to  which  people 
had  become  accustomed,  was  his  rule.  When  he  visited  a 
town,  he  went  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  although  the  towns- 
people were  expecting  that  the  largest  edifice  would  attract 
him,  or  some  large  hall  where  all  might  hear  him.  But  he 
wended  his  way,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  the  small  "  Gothic 
cathedrals,"  as  the  Episcopal  churches  were  called,  tucked 
away  sometimes  in  a  side  street. 

He  was  now  forced  to  overcome  his  habit  of  silence,  or  of 
talking  only  when  he  chose  to  talk,  or  had  something  special 
to  say  when  others'  talk  aroused  him.     Now  he  was  expected 


^T-  55-56]  THE  BISHOP  889 

to  entertain  his  hosts,  or  the  assembled  company  in  rural 
parsonages  ;  for  no  one  would  talk  when  the  bishop  was  pre- 
sent, and  at  first  Bishop  Brooks  overawed  those  who  met 
him.  He  had  one  resource,  by  which  he  could  escape  if 
necessary,  and  that  was  by  giving  himself  up  to  the  children. 
This  was  also  amusement  and  pure  recreation.  Beautiful 
accounts  were  written  of  his  entrance  into  a  household  and 
establishing  at  once  with  the  children  a  familiar  footing,  so 
that  he  and  all  in  the  family  were  completely  at  home.  "  Why 
do  you  not  talk  to  us  as  Bishop  Brooks  did  ?  "  was  a  question 
from  the  children  that  met  Bishop  Lawrence  as  he  made  his 
first  visitations  in  the  diocese. 

His  modesty  was  always  conspicuous  on  his  visitations  [writes 
Mr.  A.  J.  C.  Sowdon].      One  day  he  was  met  at  the  station  in 

Fall  River  by  Rev.  Mr.  S ,  who  turned  to  help  him  with  his 

valise.     But  he  refused,  saying  he  was  able  to  carry  it  himself. 

As  they  came  to  a  carriage  Mr.  S asked  him  to  step  in,  but 

he  stood  back  and  said,    "Get  in  yourself  first,   S ,   never 

mind  me."  He  had  a  way  of  refusing  carriages.  Once  when  he 
had  been  out  to  a  service  in  a  suburban  town,  and  was  leaving 

the  church,  Mr.  C said,  "Bishop,  there  is  a  carriage  for  you 

at  the  door."      "I  sent  it  away,"  he  answered.      "It  would  have 

gratified  our  people  if  you  had  used  it,"  said  Mr.  C .      "I 

preferred  not  to  do  so.  I  can  go  into  town  just  as  well  in  the 
horse  cars." 

I  was  taking  him  in  to  dinner  [continues  Mr.  Sowdon]  the 
first  day  of  his  convention,  the  only  convention  he  attended  as 
bishop.  There  was  an  unusual  crowd  at  the  Hotel  Brunswick, 
and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  get  through  the  entry.  As  I 
asked  the  clergy  to  make  way  a  little,  he  rebuked  me ;  but  there 
seemed  no  other  way  of  getting  to  the  dining-room.  The  clergy 
did  open  ranks,  and  some  clapped  their  hands  as  we  passed  through 
the  lines.  This  dreadfully  annoyed  him,  and  he  insisted  earnestly 
to  me  that  it  must  never  occur  again.  He  was  greatly  provoked ; 
but  after  dinner  he  came  to  me  and  expressed  deep  regret  that 
he  had  been  so  quick  with  me.  I  told  him  it  was  no  fault  of 
mine ;  but  he  said  very  sweetly  and  earnestly,  "  Well,  you  must 
see  that  it  (the  clapping  and  open  ranks)  never  occurs  again." 

A  few  days  after  he  was  made  bishop,  when  the  conversation 

turned  upon  the  office,   he  said  to  Rev.  Mr.  L ,  "If  it  ever 

seems  to  you  that  my  head  gets  turned,  you  must  tell  me  of  it." 


890  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

Once  he  discovered  that  the  person  in  charge  of  the  Church 
Rooms  had  employed  a  poor  clergyman  to  carry  a  note  for  him ; 
and  he  never  forgot  the  person  or  the  action,  and  was  terribly 
exercised  about  the  indignity  put  upon  his  brother  clergyman. 

Then  I  must  mention  his  absolute  indifference  as  to  whether 
or  not  his  friends  had  voted  for  him  as  Bishop.  Too  much  can- 
not be  said  of  his  entire  freedom  from  revenge  or  soreness.  He 
nobly  respected  their  judgment  and  the  pluck  it  took  to  vote 
against  him. 

In  January  Bishop  Brooks  was  seriously  ill  with  an  at- 
tack of  the  grippe.  From  the  despondency  which  accompa- 
nies the  disease  he  was  some  time  in  recovering,  and  indeed  he 
never  quite  recovered  from  the  effects  of  that  lamentable  ill- 
ness. To  a  friend  who  called  upon  him,  he  remarked  that 
there  had  been  one  bishop  of  Massachusetts  who  never  per- 
formed an  episcopal  function,  and  he  was  afraid  there  would 
be  a  second  of  whom  the  same  would  be  said.  To  another 
friend  he  said  in  answer  to  some  request  that  the  only  thing 
he  could  not  give  him  was  cheerfulness. 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  January  21, 1892. 

Dear  Arthur,  —  How  strange  it  all  is,  this  being  sick !  I 
am  not  out  yet  except  for  necessary  duties,  when  I  go  in  car- 
riages, wrapped  up  like  a  mummy  and  actually  afraid  of  draughts, 
like  an  old  woman.  I  hope  it  is  most  over,  but  the  weather  is 
beastly,  and  the  doctor  is  so  cautious  and  the  legs  so  weak  that  I 
don't  feel  very  sure  of  anything.  Fortunately  the  doctor  smiles 
on  my  going  to  Philadelphia  next  week,  and  thinks  the  change 
will  do  me  good.  Unfortunately,  however,  he  insists  that  I 
must  go  through  and  back  in  a  closed  car,  shut  in  at  Boston  and 
leaving  the  car  only  at  Philadelphia.  Such  a  car  goes  now  via 
the  Shore  Line  and  the  steamer  around  New  York.  This  loses 
my  chance  of  a  night  with  you,  for  which  I  am  very  sorry,  though 
indeed,  unless  the  coming  week  makes  a  great  difference,  a  night 
of  my  society  could  be  of  small  delight  to  anybody.  Still  I  dare 
to  think  that  you  and  L would  be  glad  to  see  me. 

And  you  shall !  On  Friday,  the  19th  of  February,  I  am  com- 
ing on  to  the  dinner  of  the  New  York  Harvard  Club,  and  I  shall 
count  on  you  to  take  me  in  over  night.  I  never  saw  a  big  New 
York  dinner,  and  I  expect  to  be  delighted  and  dazzled  in  my 
provincial  eyes. 

And  you  must  send  me  the  seal  as  soon  as  it  is  done.     I  am 


mr.  55-56]  THE   BISHOP  891 

impatient  for  it,  —  not  that  I  have  suffered  at  all  hy  the  delay, 
hut  I  want  to  get  possession  of  the  gem  of  the  episcopate,  and  to 

show and that  I  have  the  finest  seal  of  the  lot. 

I  hope  that  the  winter  goes  on  well  with  you.  Don't  get  sick 
any  more,  and  let 's  be  grateful  for  all  the  fine  long  years  of 
health. 

But  the  thought  of  a  visit  to  Philadelphia  had  its  usual 
effect,  and  he  writes  to  Mr.  Cooper,  January  22,  1892  :  "  I 
may  trust  to  you  and  McVickar  for  something  to  wear 
on  Sunday,  surplice  or  gown.  I  shan't  bring  any  episcopal 
robes.     You  don't  know  what  a  good  time  I  mean  to  have." 

To  the  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  February  3, 1892. 

My  dear  William,  —  The  visit  was  very  pleasant,  but  it  was 
not  the  real  thing.  I  missed  you  all  the  time,  and  the  sense  of 
why  you  were  not  there,  and  the  sorrow  which  had  fallen  on  you, 
kept  us  all  the  time  from  the  absolute  cheeriness  which  belongs 
to  a  visit  to  the  dear  old  town.  Cooper  was  very  kind,  and  the 
dinner  went  off  very  well,  and  the  people  at  the  church  were  hospi- 
tality itself,  but  you  were  not  there,  and  all  the  time  I  was  think- 
ing of  you  sitting  by  your  father,  and  remembering  all  the  past 
which  you  had  lived  with  him.  What  an  awful  thing  it  is  when 
one's  father  dies !  I  think  that  one  grows  less  and  less  afraid  of  his 
own  death,  and  more  and  more  afraid  of  the  death  of  his  friends. 
And  here  there  is  this  endless  complication  of  life  with  strangers, 
these  countless  tiresome  little  bits  of  business  with  strangers,  with 
people  that  never  have  been  and  never  can  be  one's  friends,  while 
the  folks  one  really  cares  for  you  see  only  once  a  year,  and  by 
and  by  they  die.  Let 's  change  it  all!  Let 's  get  the  half-dozen 
people  who  are  really  worth  while,  and  go  off  to  Cathay  or  some- 
where, and  really  see  them  while  life  lasts. 

But  what  a  joy  it  must  be  to  you,  dear  William,  to  have  seen 
so  much  of  your  father,  and  to  have  put  so  much  of  happiness  as 
you  must  have  out  into  his  life.  It  is  one  of  the  things  that  is 
most  comforting  to  think  of,  I  am  sure. 

And  how  little  it  makes  life  seem ;  and  how  great ;  and  God 
how  near,  and  our  own  ambitions  so  small ;  and  every  chance  to 
be  good  and  to  do  good  so  great  and  so  precious ! 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  fellow, 

Your  old  friend,  P.  B. 

On  February  11  a  meeting  was  held  in  Boston,  where  the 


892  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

laity,  who  had  been  invited  to  meet  the  city  clergy,  were 
present  in  large  numbers.  The  object  of  the  meeting  as 
stated  in  the  bishop's  circular  letter,  and  more  fully  in  his 
address,  was  to  rouse  the  laity  to  individual  and  also  con- 
certed effort  in  order  to  meet  people  in  sections  of  the  city 
devoid  of  religious  or  moral  influence  who  could  not  be 
reached  by  organized  parochial  work.  This  was  the  first 
step  taken  on  a  large  scale  by  the  bishop  to  carry  out  some 
more  comprehensive  plan  for  increasing  the  efficiency  of  the 
Episcopal  Church.  There  was  much  enthusiasm  evoked  by 
his  words  and  by  the  addresses  of  others  present.  A  resolu- 
tion was  adopted  in  accordance  with  which  a  committee  of 
three  was  appointed  to  act  in  concert  with  the  bishop  in  find- 
ing work  for  every  layman  to  do  who  was  willing  to  be  of 
service.  It  was  a  beginning  full  of  promise,  making  the 
laity  realize  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  to  be  a  layman's  bishop. 
To  Rev.  Percy  Browne  he  writes  :  — 

March  11,  1892. 

Dear  Perct,  —  I  have  read  the  Parish  Retrospect  all  through, 
and  send  you  my  thanks  for  it.  It  is  very  interesting  and  could 
not  have  been  better  done,  but  how  little  printed  pages  can  tell 
of  what  such  a  twenty  years  as  this  has  been !  But  most  of  all, 
I  find  myself  selfishly  thinking  of  what  the  twenty  years  have 
been  to  me.  I  cannot  think  how  different  they  would  have  been 
if  you  had  not  come  to  St.  James  when  they  were  fortunate 
enough  to  ask  you.  I  think  of  the  countless  happy  hours  I  have 
had  with  you,  the  kindness  you  have  shown  me,  the  pleasure  you 
have  given  me,  the  good  you  have  done  me,  and  my  heart  is  full 
of  grateful  joy.      May  God  bless  you  for  it  all,  dear  friend. 

And  now  let  us  have  twenty  more  such  years  before  we  go 
home  to  the  Eternal  Comradeship ! 

Ash  "Wednesday  fell  on  March  2,  and  as  Trinity  Church 
was  still  without  a  rector,  Bishop  Brooks  consented  to  take, 
in  addition  to  his  episcopal  labors,  the  Friday  evening  lec- 
tures. He  also  gave  during  Lent,  as  in  the  previous  year,  the 
Monday  noon  addresses  at  St.  Paul's.  It  need  only  be  said 
of  these  latter  addresses  that  they  were  a  phenomenon  in  Bos- 
ton, such  as  witnesses  and  reporters  vainly  endeavored  to  de- 
scribe, —  a  repetition  of  what  it  had  been  in  New  York,  or 


^T-  55-56]  AT  TRINITY  CHURCH  893 

the  previous  year  in  Boston,  when  the  preacher  addressed 
himself  exclusively  to  men.  Nothing  like  it  in  the  impres- 
sive power  of  impassioned  appeal  had  ever  been  known  in 
Boston.  The  addresses  were  intended  for  business  men,  and 
they  were  there ;  but  the  clergy  were  there  in  large  numbers 
and  of  every  denomination,  as  though  the  addresses  were 
condones  ad  clerum. 

But  the  Friday  evening  lectures  at  Trinity  were  of  another 
kind,  full  of  the  overflowing  tenderness  and  love  of  a  pastor 
still  in  relation  to  his  people,  unable  to  sever  the  tie  which 
bound  them  together.  The  burden  was  a  heavy  one  to  carry, 
but  love  and  devotion  seemed  to  make  it  light.  As  to  what 
was  said  in  these  lectures,  instead  of  turning  to  his  note-book, 
with  his  own  outline,  we  may  take  reports,  by  an  interested 
listener,  giving  personal  comment  and  impression.  This  is 
the  account  of  the  address  at  the  Communion  Service  on  the 
evening  of  Holy  Thursday,  April  14  :  — 

His  face  had  that  night  that  serene  but  not  removed  expres- 
sion; it  was  gentle  and  affectionate,  human,  and  yet  spiritual. 
He  seems  to  want  to  let  the  people  see  that  he  cares  for  them, 
and  his  sermon  was  all  full  of  that  personal  sense  of  our  belonging 
to  each  other,  of  his  remembering  each  one  and  what  we  had  been 
through  together. 

He  began  by  speaking  of  the  Lord's  Supper  as  an  anniversary, 
not  only  of  the  Last  Supper,  but  of  the  many  times  we  have  come 
together  to  celebrate  it  through  all  these  years.  The  one  thing 
we  felt  in  reading  about  it  was  the  love  of  Jesus  for  His  disciples ; 
"with  desire  have  I  desired."  Thus  he  named  one  disciple  after 
another,  and  characterized  each  by  a  most  masterly  little  touch, 
so  that  each  stood  out  a  figure  full  of  interest  whom  you  felt  you 
knew  and  loved.  It  was  wonderful.  Then  he  made  you  see  how 
they  were  all,  with  their  interesting  varied  personalities  and  ex- 
periences, gathered  in  that  room,  and  Jesus  knew  them  all,  every 
one,  and  loved  each  one  of  them.  And  as  He  looked  into  face 
after  face,  and  moved  about  among  them  from  foot  to  foot,  His 
love  filled  all  the  place.  He  made  it  all  most  sacred,  personal, 
the  fire  of  His  love  transforming  all  their  souls  into  perfect  one- 
ness with  Him.  Then,  while  it  was  all  so  near  and  present,  He 
looks  forward  and  says,  "I  will  not  drink  of  this  again  till  I 
drink  it  new  with  you  in  the  Kingdom. "     The  perfect  assurance 


894  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

that  their  love  reached  forward,  beyond,  that  they  could  never 
he  separated,  that  their  lives  were  all  one,  in  Jerusalem  then  and 
afterwards  in  the  heavenly  city. 

This  sermon  was  one  of  those  with  a  single  thought  in  it,  like 
an  atmosphere  that  enveloped  and  filled  everything.  Each  word 
deepened  the  impression ;  it  was  love,  —  in  Jesus,  in  the  disci- 
ples, in  the  preacher,  in  the  people,  beating  in  every  word,  all 
through  the  place.  When  I  tell  you  this  you  will  know  better 
than  if  I  tried  to  tell  it  in  words. 

On  Good  Friday  he  took  for  his  text,  "  It  is  finished." 

Good  Friday,  he  began  by  saying,  was  the  most  important 
day  of  the  whole  year ;  it  stood  as  the  greatest  of  all  days  in  its 
influence,  in  the  event  it  commemorated.  It  was  characteristic 
of  human  life  that  its  greatest  day  should  be  its  saddest,  full  of 
suffering  and  sorrow.  It  showed  how  life  in  its  essential  nature 
was  sad,  but  it  was  a  day  of  hope,  its  sorrow  full  of  promise, 
and  this,  too,  was  characteristic  of  human  life.  Then  he  spoke 
about  last  words,  how  interesting  even  when  they  are  a  stranger's, 
how  dear  when  they  are  a  friend's.  These  last  words  of  Jesus 
were  sad.  The  end  of  anything  is  sad.  No  man  leaves  any  ex- 
perience without  sadness,  and  the  end  of  life  is  sad,  even  if  it  is 
the  beginning  of  a  richer  existence.  Here  he  quoted  the  "long- 
ing, lingering  look  behind,"  and  the  "cheerful  day."  Then, 
when  the  end  of  an  experience  comes,  one  gains  a  comprehension 
of  all  that  has  gone  to  make  up  the  experience.  Details  and  com- 
plexity are  untangled,  and  the  real  meaning  is  seen.  So  it  was 
with  Jesus.  Galilee  and  the  Lake  and  the  Temple  all  came  back 
to  Him  and  stood  out  clear  in  those  last  moments.  All  these 
thoughts  were  in  Jesus'  mind  because  He  was  human.  His  life 
on  earth  had  been  an  experience  in  His  eternal  life,  one  which 
was  new  and  would  never  be  repeated ;  it  was  as  a  man  that  He 
ended  it  now  and  passed  from  it  into  His  unending,  divine  exist- 
ence ;  but  the  experience  would  be  with  Him  always,  making  more 
perfect  His  perfect  nature. 

Now  what  did  these  words  mean  ?  What  was  finished  ?  The 
answer,  the  rescue  of  humanity.  Just  as  a  father  seeks  for  his 
child  who  has  gone  astray,  and  goes  unresting  day  and  night 
through  vile  haunts  of  sin  and  misery,  and  then  finds  her  and 
places  her  again  in  the  pure  light  of  the  old  home  life,  and  it  is 
finished.  As  a  diver  plunges  into  the  strange  dark  waters  and 
wrestles  with  the  hideous  forms  that  grovel  at  the  bottom,  and 
finds  the  pearl  and  brings  it  to  the  land  in  triumph.  Anything 
more?     Yes,  it  was  more  than  an  act  of  redemption  that  was 


jet.  55-56]  GOOD  FRIDAY  895 

finished ;  it  was  a  creative  act.  There  are  two  creations,  as  we 
read  in  the  Bible.  The  Spirit  of  God  brooding  over  Chaos  brings 
light  and  life  and  order  and  music  out  of  it.  He  did  not  quote 
the  Hymn  on  the  Nativity;  there  was  no  need  of  it,  for  his  lan- 
guage was  just  as  poetical,  majestic,  rhythmical,  superb,  as  that 
stanza,  — 

Such  music,  as  't  is  said, 
Before  was  never  made, 

Bat  when  of  old  the  sons  of  morning  sang, 
While  the  Creator  great 
His  constellations  set, 

And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hang. 

Yes,  it  was  more  beautiful,  it  was  like  a  great,  rich  strain  of 
music,  like  a  view  of  the  universe  with  all  the  parts  moving  in 
harmony  and  beauty.  That  was  the  first  creation.  Then  the 
spirit  of  God  brooded  over  human  life  so  close  and  near  and  deep, 
that  it  entered  into  human  life  and  was  incarnate,  and  wrought 
the  mysterious  change  in  the  soul  of  man,  —  the  change  that 
brings  order  and  beauty  out  of  chaos  and  sin.  And  the  power 
of  the  incarnation  was  sacrifice,  and  the  power  of  the  new  crea- 
tion is  sacrifice.  When  once  the  spirit  of  sacrifice  enters,  sin  is 
cast  out,  by  the  very  entrance  of  this  spirit,  and  old  puzzles  and 
doubts  and  evil  thoughts  flit  away  like  hateful  birds  of  night. 

Pale  and  earnest,  his  voice  quivering,  he  leaned  forward,  and 
said,  "This  was  for  you  and  me."  And  then  he  made  one  of 
those  tremendous  appeals  that  shake  your  heart  because  they  must 
leave  you  better,  or  infinitely  worse;  and  then  he  prayed. 

One  other  point,  the  creative  power  is  also  the  ministering 
power.  In  the  natural  creation  more  and  more  it  is  discovered 
that  creation  is  not  one  act  but  a  continuous  process ;  so  in  the 
spiritual  creation,  Jesus  creates  and  then  abides  in  the  soul  and 
ministers  to  it  until  it  is  perfect  even  as  the  Father  is  perfect. 

In  the  afternoon  of  Good  Friday  he  commented  on  the 
words,  "  Always  bearing  about  in  the  body  the  dying  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  that  the  life,"  etc. 

St.  Paul  did  not  see  Jesus  die ;  perhaps  his  knowledge  of  that 
death,  being  removed  from  the  actual  sight  of  that  anguish  which 
for  the  time  swallowed  up  the  deeper  meaning  of  a  death,  was  in 
some  ways  more  true  and  intelligent.  When  we  see  some  one  die 
we  do  not  at  the  time  catch  the  full  significance  of  the  event. 
Afterwards  we  remember  and  recognize  the  heroism,  the  patience, 
the  triumph,  that  were  in  it.     St.  Paul  says  he  bears  this  know- 


896  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

ledge,  the  dying  of  Jesus,  about  in  his  body.  It  is  interesting  to 
notice  how  he  speaks  of  his  body.  Poor,  weak,  small  as  it  was, 
if  tradition  tells  the  truth,  it  was  the  scene,  the  theatre  of  all 
the  great  acts  and  experiences  of  his  soul.  He  honors  it,  recog- 
nizes its  mystery,  its  relation  to  his  spirit,  and  so  when  he  thinks 
of  Jesus'  death  he  says  that  it  is  in  his  body  that  he  bears  that 
knowledge.  There  are  wonderful  pictures  in  the  Old  World 
everywhere,  representing  the  descent  from  the  cross,  where  the 
disciples  touch  the  cold  stiff  limbs,  though  they  know  that  the 
spirit  of  Jesus  is  no  longer  in  them;  tenderly  and  lovingly  bear- 
ing in  their  arms  the  dying  Lord.  Other  pictures  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  many  of  the  girl  mother  with  her  baby,  —  those  have  the 
unquenchable  joy  of  youth  and  young  motherhood,  — but  there 
are  some  of  the  Mother  of  our  Lord  in  the  fulness  of  mature 
life,  splendid  and  august  in  the  maturity  of  her  beauty  and  her 
sorrow.  She  holds  her  Son  dead  across  her  knees,  and  as  she 
looks  down  upon  the  cold,  rigid  limbs,  there  is  in  her  face  sor- 
row too  deep  for  tears.  You  can  see  there  the  destruction  of 
all  her  hopes;  all  the  sacrifices  she  has  made,  the  disappoint- 
ments, the  loneliness  of  His  life.  She  has  felt  them  all  as 
mothers  do  the  experiences  of  their  children,  and  now  He  is  dead, 
and  she  is  dying  too. 

He  talked,  in  closing,  about  how  people  die,  —  living  people. 
They  die  when  those  they  love  die.  You  die,  something  comes  to 
an  end.  It  is  all  over.  Just  as  Thursday  evening  Love  was  the 
theme,  so  this  afternoon  it  was  death.  It  was  all  about  you  and 
in  you,  death  and  sin,  —  disappointment,  failure,  misery,  injus- 
tice, —  all  crowded  around  that  cross,  and  the  victim  of  it  all 
suffering  there,  and  those  who  loved  him  dying  too. 

That,  he  said,  was  what  made  the  awful  solemnity  of  life  as 
we  go  on  in  it,  —  the  bearing  about  in  our  body  the  dying  of  the 
Lord  Jesus. 

It  is  strange,  but  I  can't  seem  to  remember  anything  but  this. 
He  did  say  something  about  the  life  being  made  manifest,  but 
the  impression  of  death,  the  picture  of  the  dying  Christ,  was  so 
vivid  that  I  could  not  think  of  anything  else.  We  seem  to  be 
left  in  the  dark  just  watching  that  figure,  and  it  seems  to  be  there 
through  the  ages,  suffering  for  all  the  sin  ever  since,  and  for 
all  the  sorrow  and  ignorance,  and  making  us  bear  it  about  in  our 
own  bodies  and  never  rest  or  cease  to  remember  till  we  have  done 
our  part,  have  somehow  carried  this  sacrifice  to  heal  and  bless 
some  part  of  this  weary  world. 

On  the  evening  of  Good  Friday  Bishop  Brooks  was  present 


jet.  55-56]    CONVENTION  ADDRESS  897 

and  took  part  at  a  union  service  in  the  Old  South  Church 
(Congregational),  when  an  eminent  Unitarian  minister  was 
also  present,  Dr.  A.  P.  Peabody,  of  Harvard  College,  for 
whom  Phillips  Brooks  felt  a  filial  reverence  and  affection. 
"It  was  something  always  to  be  remembered,"  writes  the 
Rev.  George  A.  Gordon,  "  the  way  that  Brooks  listened  while 
Peabody  spoke  of  Christ,  and  the  intense  eagerness  of  that 
venerable  and  saintly  Unitarian  to  catch  every  word  that  fell 
from  the  lips  of  the  great  bishop."  The  event  called  forth  the 
familiar  protest  within  the  diocese  and  woke  up  again  the  op- 
position without,  which  had  been  silent  since  his  consecration. 

On  Wednesday,  May  18,  the  diocesan  convention  met, 
when  Bishop  Brooks  was  to  make  his  first  convention  address. 
So  great  was  the  desire  to  hear  him  that  the  occasion  resem- 
bled a  religious  service  with  its  throng  of  listeners.  The 
bishop's  secretary,  Rev.  W.  H.  Brooks,  a  man  of  large  expe- 
rience in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  seeing  no  signs  of  preparation, 
took  occasion  to  say  in  advance  that  an  address  to  the  con- 
vention was  an  important  function  to  be  borne  in  mind. 
Bishop  Brooks  said  that  he  would  bear  it  in  mind,  but  he 
must  have  smiled  inwardly  at  the  anxious  secretary.  The 
address  had  been  written  weeks  before.  Like  his  other  work, 
it  had  a  literary  quality,  so  that  to  one  with  no  knowledge  of 
the  occasion  it  would  read  like  an  interesting  essay  with  ar- 
tistic form.  It  deserves  an  important  place  among  his  "  Es- 
says and  Addresses,"  for  it  contains  his  wisdom  and  expe- 
rience brought  to  bear  upon  ecclesiastical  matters,  and  placed 
at  the  disposal  of  his  brethren.  It  more  than  fulfilled  the 
highest  expectations  of  the  episcopal  possibilities  that  were 
in  him.  It  was  comprehensive  and  statesmanlike,  with  sug- 
gestions of  practical  and  immediate,  but  also  of  far-reaching 
importance.  It  breathed  a  spirit  of  universal  charity,  kindly 
and  genial,  and  yet  incisive  to  the  last  degree.  Its  recom- 
mendations to  clergy  and  laity  are  still  remembered,  still 
acted  upon,  as  the  legacy  of  a  great  bishop  who  filled  out  the 
ofiice  in  its  highest  ideal. 

There  was  the  usual  reticence  about  making  statements  of 
his  work,  and  there  was  no  comparative  estimate.     But  those 

vol.  n 


898  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

who  listened  saw  what  he  had  accomplished.  In  the  seven 
months  since  his  consecration  the  number  of  persons  con- 
firmed by  him  was  2127.  When  to  these  was  added  the 
number  confirmed  by  other  bishops  during  the  vacancy  of  the 
diocese,  the  total  was  2395.  In  1890  the  number  of  confir- 
mations was  1743,  and  in  1891,  1535,  —  figures  which  make 
apparent  the  modesty  of  his  remark,  "  The  number  of  confir- 
mations is  a  little  larger  than  ever  before  in  the  history  of  the 
diocese."  There  were  other  signs  of  vigorous  growth,  the 
number  of  Candidates  for  Orders  had  increased  from  25  to 
36,  the  number  of  clergy  from  192  to  205,  the  number  of  lay 
readers  from  16  to  70.  There  had  been  a  large  increase  in 
the  Episcopal  Fund,  and  the  new  Diocesan  House  had  been 
purchased  at  No.  1  Joy  Street,  in  Boston,  which  offered 
ample  accommodation  compared  with  the  "  dreary  hospital- 
ity"  of  the  Church  Booms  in  Hamilton  Place. 

But  these  items  of  growth  showing  the  effect  of  the  new 
enthusiasm  are  not  so  interesting  as  the  suggestions  for  the 
future.  The  bishop  and  the  man  spoke  out  when  outlining 
the  policy  to  be  followed.  Space  must  be  found  for  a  few 
of  his  words,  which  will  at  least  demonstrate  his  interest  in, 
and  his  loyalty  to,  the  Episcopal  Church,  which  had  been  so 
cruelly  questioned. 

Is  it  then  true  that  our  Church  has  worthily  conceived  her 
whole  relation  to  the  whole  people  of  this  Commonwealth?  Our 
local  history  accounts  for  much  of  the  defect  of  such  conception. 
We  have  been  for  two  centuries  counted  an  exception,  almost  an 
exotic,  in  New  England.  It  has  seemed  to  those  around  us  as  if 
we  existed  for  the  sake  of  a  certain  class  of  people  of  peculiar 
character  and  antecedents.  To  others  it  has  seemed  as  if  we 
were  of  value  because  we  bore  witness  to  certain  elements  of 
Christian  life,  which  were  in  danger  of  being  forgotten  or  ne- 
glected. Probably  it  was  inevitable  that  we  should  come  to  take 
somewhat  the  same  view  of  ourselves  which  others  have  taken  of 
us.  Certainly  we  have  done  so  in  some  degree.  With  all  our 
self-appreciation  we  have  lived  in  a  limited  notion  of  what  it  is 
possible  for  us  to  do.  We  have  been  at  once  bold  and  timid. 
We  have  been  burdened  with  self -consciousness.  We  have  dwelt 
on  what  we  have  called  the  "mission  of  our  Church."     The  real 


^T-  55-56]       CORRESPONDENCE  899 

mission  of  our  Church  is  nothing  less  than  the  eternal,  universal 
mission  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  which  is  the  preaching  of  right- 
eousness, the  saving  of  souls,  the  huilding  of  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  All  mere  special  commissions  and  endowments  are  matters 
of  method,  and  ought  to  be  much  less  kept  before  our  conscious- 
ness and  much  less  set  before  the  world. 

And  we  are  too  much  in  the  habit  of  asking,  when  a  new  town 
or  city  is  offered  as  a  possible  field  for  an  Episcopal  Church, 
whether  there  are  any  "  Church  people  "  there,  as  if  that  name 
described  a  special  kind  or  order  of  humanity  to  whom  alone  we 
were  to  consider  ourselves  as  sent.  The  real  question  ought  to 
be  whether  there  are  human  creatures  in  that  town.  We  are  sent 
to  the  human  race.  That  larger  idea  of  our  mission  must  enlarge 
our  spirit  and  our  ways,  and  make  us  fit  to  bear  our  part  in  the 
broad  salvation  of  the  world. 

Everything  which  I  have  to  say  tends  to  the  strong  assertion 
of  the  truth  that  the  Church  is  bound  to  seek  men;  not  merely 
to  stand  where  men  can  find  her  if  they  wish,  but  to  go  after 
them  and  claim  them.  One  application  of  this  truth  has  forced 
itself  upon  my  notice,  with  reference  to  the  situation  of  our 
churches  in  some  of  the  towns  and  villages  of  our  diocese.  The 
question  of  location  is  altogether  the  most  important  outward 
question  which  arises  in  connection  with  the  establishment  of  a 
new  parish.  It  is  far  more  important  than  the  question  of  archi- 
tecture, important  as  that  is.  Better  an  ugly  church  in  the  right 
place  than  a  gem  of  beauty  where  men  have  to  search  to  find  it. 
But,  once  more,  we  are  driven  to  no  such  alternative.  Rather, 
our  alternative  is  apt  to  be  this :  Whether  it  is  not  best  to  wait 
and  struggle  a  little  longer  and  a  little  harder,  to  set  our  church 
at  last  full  in  the  centre  of  the  town's  life,  on  the  town  square, 
where  men  cannot  help  seeing  it  every  day,  —  where  it  shall  per- 
petually claim  its  right  to  be  recognized  and  heard,  —  than  to 
take  the  pretty  and  retired  lot  down  some  side  street,  which  we 
can  have  at  once,  which  can  be  bought  cheaply,  or  which  some 
kind  friend  gives  us  for  nothing,  where  the  church  we  build  will 
always  seem  to  declare  itself  not  a  messenger  to  the  whole  people, 
but  the  confidant  and  friend  of  a  few  specially  initiated  people 
who  know  and  love  her  ways,  and  who  will  find  her,  however  she 
may  hide  herself.  Here  certainly  we  need  more  and  not  less 
boldness  and  assurance  of  what  we  are  and  what  we  have  to  do.1 

Much  of  the  correspondence  of  Phillips  Brooks  at  this  time 

1  Cf .  Journal  of  the  \Q/lth  Convention  of  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts,  pp.  119, 
123. 


9oo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

is  of  an  official  character.  From  the  many  personal  letters  he 
wrote  a  few  are  given  which  will  carry  on  the  story  of  his  life. 
To  a  Candidate  for  Orders,  Mr.  Henry  Ross,  then  in  Germany, 
who  had  asked  regarding  the  interpretation  of  the  Creed :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  April  13,  1892. 

Dear  Mr.  Ross,  —  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  from  you  and  to 
have  the  opportunity  of  sending  you  cordial  Easter  greeting, 
which  I  do  with  all  my  heart. 

As  to  the  question  of  your  letter,  I  wish  very  much  that  I 
could  have  the  privilege  of  talking  with  you,  for  writing  is  a 
most  imperfect  method  of  communication.  But  what  I  think  is 
this :  — 

The  creed  is  drawn  from  the  New  Testament,  and  the  New 
Testament  declares  and  emphasizes  the  peculiar  and  supreme 
nature  of  Christ  as  outgoing  while  it  fulfils  the  nature  of  human- 
ity. It  asserts  that  this,  His  higher  nature,  involved  relations 
with  the  outer  world  more  perfect  and  complete  than  those  which 
helong  to  ordinary  human  lives.  This  assertion  makes  the  story 
of  what  we  call  the  supernatural.  And  both  the  entrance  on  and 
the  departure  from  our  human  life  are  declared  to  have  been  in 
some  way  marked  by  circumstances  which  indicated  his  superior 
nature. 

In  neither  case  is  the  exact  character  of  the  circumstances 
made  clear,  but  in  both  there  is  the  indication  of  something  ex- 
ceptional, and  therefore  wonderful,  or,  as  we  say,  miraculous. 

Now  this  is  what  our  creed  expresses,  and  the  ability  to  repeat 
the  creed  implies,  therefore,  the  belief  in  the  higher  life  of  Jesus. 
That  higher  life  is  closely  associated  with  the  higher  life  of  man. 
The  divinity  of  Christ  is  not  separate  from  His  humanity.  It  is 
His  total  nature,  which  the  Church  tries  to  express  in  the  large 
statements  of  His  birth  and  death,  which  it  takes  from  the  New 
Testament. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  results  of  modern  scholarship  which 
conflicts  with  the  statements  in  the  Apostles'  and  Nicene  Creeds 
concerning  the  birth  of  Jesus.  Those  statements  are  variously 
understood  by  various  believers,  but  they  have  this  meaning  al- 
ways in  them,  that  Christ  bore  a  higher  life  than  ours,  and  that 
that  higher  life  manifested  itself  in  the  circumstances  of  His 
experience. 

I  hope  that  you  are  well  and  happy,  and  I  am  thankful  for 
this  chance  to  say  God  bless  you. 

May  all  good  be  with  you  always. 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 


jet.  55-56]      CORRESPONDENCE  901 

The  following  letter  indicates  how  his  time  was  occupied 
with  engagements,  and  how  he  was  carrying  the  burden :  — 

233  Clabendon  Street,  Boston,  May  2,  1892. 
Dear  Arthur,  —  So  far  I  find  the  bishop  life  a  very  comfort- 
able and  pleasant  one,  with  none  of  the  carking  cares  and  con- 
suming quarrels  with  which  I  supposed  it  to  abound. 

But  I  want  advice  about  many  points  which  are  looming  in 
the  distance,  and  therefore  I  am  coming  to  you  next  week.  On 
Friday  morning  I  leave  Boston,  and  shall  be  with  you  at  dinner 
on  that  day.  On  Sunday  you  are  here  and  I  am  there,  which  I 
don't  like,  but  there  seems  to  be  no  help  and  no  way  in  which  we 
can  spend  the  blessed  day  together. 

On  Monday  I  make  a  visit  to  New  Haven,  leaving  New  York 
at  two  p.  m.,  preaching  at  the  College  in  the  evening,  and  return- 
ing to  New  York  that  night,  reaching  your  hospitable  door  bell 
about  midnight. 

Tuesday  is  devoted  entirely  to  rest  and  brotherhood.  Wednes- 
day is  given  to  the  same  until  the  evening  comes,  when  I  go  to 
a  meeting  in  Chickering  Hall,  or  somewhere,  about  the  Bible 
Society,  and  then  take  the  late  train  for  Boston  in  order  to  be 
here  for  a  wedding  on  Friday  morning.     Do  you  see  ? 

It  all  looks  bright  and  interesting,  and  he  who  means  to  do 
it  all  is 

Your  affectionate  brother,  P. 

The  Rev.  Reuen  Thomas,  pastor  of  the  Congregational 
Church  in  Brookline,  where  Phillips  Brooks  had  often  gone 
to  preach,  sent  him  a  request  to  reopen  the  enlarged  and 
beautified  church.  Aware  that  it  was  a  new  thing  in  the 
ecclesiastical  world  for  a  Congregational  minister  to  prefer 
such  a  request  to  a  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  Phillips 
Brooks  replied :  — 

May  21, 1892. 

Dear  Dr.  Thomas,  —  Your  note  gives  me  great  pleasure,  and 
I  thank  you  for  it  with  all  my  heart.  I  would  gladly  do,  if  I 
could,  the  pleasant  duty  which  you  ask  of  me,  but  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  I  cannot.  I  am  going  abroad,  and  shall  not  return 
until  September,  just  when,  I  cannot  say.  But  I  am  so  bound  by 
appointments  which  must  be  met  instantly  on  my  return  that  I 
must  not  allow  myself  to  add  an  appointment  which  I  should  find 
it  difficult  and  perhaps  impossible  to  fulfil. 

Therefore  I  must  not  come.     But  I  want  you  to  know  how 


902  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

truly  I  rejoice  with  you  in  all  your  good  work,  and  in  all  the 
enlarged  opportunity  which  will  make  it  larger  and  richer. 

And  for  Christian  unity,  such  messages  as  this  of  yours  prove 
not  merely  that  it  is  to  he,  but  that  it  is. 

Ever  your  friend  and  brother,  Phillips  Bkooks. 

To  the  Rev.  W.  R.  Huntington :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  31, 1892. 

Dear  Huntington,  —  They  are  very  good  indeed  to  want  me, 
and  if  I  were  a  different  sort  of  man  from  what  I  am  I  certainly 
would  come,  —  that  is,  if  I  were  a  man  who  shed  orations  like 
raindrops,  and  never  minded  them ;  but  I  am  not.  It  would  spoil 
my  summer  to  have  to  think  of  it,  and  when  the  day  came,  East 
Billerica  or  West  Weymouth  would  be  sure  to  be  wanting  a  visi- 
tation, and  I  should  have  to  turn  my  back  on  duty  to  go  and 
pursue  the  Phantom  Pleasure  in  New  York.  That  is  not  always 
disagreeable,  but  it  never  is  commendable,  and  so,  for  once,  I 
resist  the  temptation. 

You  will  tell  them  how  grateful  I  am,  and  you  will  know  that 
I  thank  you  for  your  kind  words. 

It  was  good  to  get  sight  of  you  the  other  day.     It  always  is. 
Affectionately  yours,  P.  B. 

Mr.  Cooper  had  promised  a  clergyman  that  he  would  write 
to  the  Bishop  of  Massachusetts  with  reference  to  any  vacancy 
in  the  diocese,  and  Bishop  Brooks  replied :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  May  31, 1892. 

Dear  Cooper,  —  It  is  good  to  see  your  blessed  handwriting. 

There  is  nothing  here  for  Mr.  now.      The  only  vacancies 

are  a  few  little  country  missions,  generally  without  church  build- 
ings,   where    the   salaries   are  very  small   and  the  prospects  of 

growth  are  of  the  slightest,  —  places  like ,  and  that  sort  of 

thing.  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  indeed,  is  vacant,  but  I  do  not 
believe  he  would  like  that.  I  was  there  myself  for  a  while,  and 
know  what  a  queer  sort  of  place  it  is.      He  would  not  like  it. 

So  all  I  can  do  is  to  keep  my  eye  open  for  a  place  for  Mr. 

.     Our  ministers  here  never  die,  and  seldom  resign,  so  that 

no  man  can  tell  what  chances  will  occur. 

If  he  would  like  a  place  in  London  or  the  Tyrol,  perhaps  I 
could  serve  him  better,  for  I  am  going  there  this  summer.  The 
Etruria  takes  me  on  the  18th  of  June.  I  should  be  glad  indeed 
if  I  could  see  you  before  I  go,  but  there  is  no  chance  that  I  can 
get  down  to  dear  Philadelphia.  Something  is  to  be  done  here 
every  day  until  I  leave. 


jet.  55-56]      CORRESPONDENCE  903 

The  tone  of  his  letters  is  genial  and  cheerful  as  ever,  but 
there  were  moments  when  he  was  weary  even  to  exhaustion, 
and  hardly  seemed  like  himself.  The  effects  of  the  grippe 
had  not  been  overcome.  It  may  be  that  he  had  overtaxed 
his  strength  in  fulfilling  his  episcopal  duties.  He  made  no 
effort  to  reduce  them,  but  went  willingly  everywhere,  at  the 
beck  and  call  of  all  who  wanted  him.  He  had  not  followed 
the  wise  advice,  given  him  by  those  who  had  experience, 
Bishop  Williams  and  others,  to  take  up  the  work  in  modera- 
tion as  he  began.  That  he  may  have  been  worried  about  his 
health  might  be  inferred  from  the  circumstance  that  before 
leaving  home  he  sent  for  the  plumbers  to  make  a  thorough 
examination  of  his  house.  The  report  sent  in  to  him  was  to 
the  effect  that  everything  was  in  proper  order.  He  sailed  in 
the  steamer  Majestic,  and  the  captain  (Purcell)  gave  him  the 
use  of  his  deck-room  during  the  day.  The  voyage  was  a 
pleasant  one.     On  board  the  steamer  he  writes :  — 

The  Majestic  is  a  magnificent  great  thing,  and  could  put  our 
dear  little  Cephalonia  into  her  waistcoat  pocket.  Her  equipment 
is  sumptuous  and  her  speed  something  tremendous.  .  .  .  Yester- 
day [June  26]  we  had  service,  and  I  preached  in  the  great 
saloon  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening  I  held  a  service  for  the 
second-class  passengers,  of  whom  there  is  a  multitude.  ...  I 
should  not  have  been  disappointed  if  the  Majestic  could  not  have 
taken  me,  and  if  I  had  been  left  in  North  Andover,  as  I  expected 
when  I  saw  you  last. 

Yours  affectionately,  and  Majestically,  P. 

The  month  of  July  was  spent  in  London.  He  was  wel- 
comed on  his  arrival  by  a  telegram  from  Lord  Aberdeen, 
asking  him  for  a  visit  at  Haddo  House  in  Scotland.  He 
preached  in  the  Abbey  as  usual,  and  for  Archdeacon  Farrar 
at  St.  Margaret's ;  "  there  were  a  good  many  people  in  both 
churches."  He  preached  also  for  Mr.  Haweis,  in  his  church 
at  Marylebone,  in  return,  as  he  said,  for  a  fine  sermon  given 
by  Mr.  Haweis  at  Trinity  years  before.  Other  invitations, 
and  they  were  many,  he  felt  obliged  to  decline,  with  the 
exception  of  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square.  "  South  London," 
wrote  the  vicar  of  St.  Mark's,  Kennington,  "  has  a  most  vivid 


904  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

and  abiding  remembrance  of  you  which  it  is  longing  to  re- 
new." "A  speech  from  you,"  wrote  the  head  master  of 
Chigwell  School,  "would  be  something  for  the  boys  to  re- 
member. We  are  very  proud  of  the  link  which  binds  us  to 
America,  as  the  school  where  William  Penn  was  educated." 
"You  do  us  much  good  by  coming  and  preaching  in  Eng- 
land," writes  Rev.  J.  Llewelyn  Davies.  And  another  dear 
friend  writes  to  him,  speaking  of  his  sermon  in  the  Abbey  on 
July  3,  "  It  was  such  a  blessing  to  hear  your  voice  once  more 
in  that  glorious  place,  and  every  heart  was  very  full  when  you 
once  more  touched  on  the  high  thoughts  and  aspirations  in 
which  all  can  unite  when  recalling  the  birthday  of  your 
national  life.  Your  visits  to  England  are  among  the  bright- 
est gifts  that  come  to  cheer  and  encourage  us." 

Many  and  most  attractive  were  the  invitations  that  came 
to  him,  from  Dr.  Temple,  the  Bishop  of  London,  from  the 
Dean  of  Westminster,  the  Dean  of  Salisbury,  the  Dean  of 
Southampton,  from  Canon  Duckworth,  at  St.  Mark's,  Hamil- 
ton Terrace,  Rev.  Gerald  Blunt,  at  Chelsea,  the  rector  of 
Bishopsgate,  Professor  Stanley  Leathes,  the  Rev.  Henry 
White,  of  the  Chapel  Royal,  Savoy,  Rev.  Mr.  Kitto,  vicar  of 
St.  Martin's,  Charing  Cross.  He  was  invited  to  revisit  the 
English  Lakes  by  Canon  Rawnsley,  vicar  of  Keswick 
Church ;  to  Brighton,  where  he  went  to  review  under  the  best 
guidance  the  scene  of  Robertson's  ministry ;  to  Winchester, 
in  order  that  he  get  the  best  impression  of  the  Saxon  metrop- 
olis ;  to  visit  art  galleries  with  Mr.  Edward  Clifford.  His 
friends  pressed  him  with  invitations  to  dinner  or  lunch, — 
the  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts,  Lady  Frances  Baillie,  the  Sew- 
ells,  the  Buchanans,  with  whom  he  was  at  home  at  Univer- 
sity House,  Bethnal  Green.  A  few  days  were  given  to  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester  at  Farnham  Castle.  In  company  with 
Archdeacon  Farrar  he  made  a  visit  to  Lord  Tennyson,  whom 
he  found  "  gentle,  gracious,  and  talkative."  That  he  greatly 
enjoyed  his  stay  in  London  is  evident,  but  he  was  not  as 
well  as  he  should  have  been.  Archdeacon  Farrar  perceived 
some  change :  — 


jet.  55-56]  IN  ENGLAND  905 

Every  one  noticed,  during  his  last  visit  to  England,  that  he 
looked  much  thinner  than  he  had  done  two  years  before,  but  he 
always  spoke  of  himself  as  perfectly  well,  and  his  great  boyish 
heart  seemed  as  full  as  ever  of  love  and  hope  and  joy.  I  noticed 
in  him  a  just  perceptible  deepening  of  gravity  in  tone,  but  no 
diminution  of  his  usually  bright  spirits.  ...  I  attributed  the 
slightly  less  buoyant  temperament  of  last  summer  —  the  sort  of 
half-sadness  which  sometimes  seemed  to  flit  over  his  mind  like 
the  shadow  of  a  summer  cloud  —  to  the  exigencies  and  responsi- 
bilities of  his  recent  dignity.1 

Phillips  Brooks  sat  for  his  photograph  while  in  London. 
In  none  of  his  portraits  does  the  greatness  of  the  man,  the 
majesty  of  his  personal  appearance,  stand  forth  more  dis- 
tinctly ;  but  these  photographs  reveal  illness  as  well ;  there  is 
sternness  in  the  countenance,  the  inherited  Puritan  sadness. 

A  volume  of  his  sermons  had  been  published  in  England 
with  the  title,  "The  Spiritual  Man  and  other  Sermons." 
Published,  as  it  was,  without  his  knowledge,  he  was  provoked 
when  his  attention  was  called  to  it  and  sent  his  protest  to  the 
publishers,  with  the  result  that  a  promise  came  to  him  that 
this  note  should  be  inserted  in  all  the  remaining  copies : 
"  Bishop  Phillips  Brooks  requests  the  publishers  to  state  that 
the  contents  of  this  volume  are  printed  from  stenographic 
reports,  gathered  from  various  sources,  and  issued  without 
his  knowledge."  Notwithstanding  his  protest,  the  book  has  a 
singular  charm.  It  contains  many  sermons  not  to  be  found 
elsewhere,  those  which  had  most  strongly  touched  the  popu- 
lar mind.  And  a  certain  pathos  is  the  tie  that  unites  them 
in  homogeneousness  and  unity,  —  the  pathos,  as  it  were,  of  a 
last  will  and  testament. 

The  month  of  August  was  spent  in  travel  on  the  Continent, 
most  of  the  time  in  company  with  McVickar.  We  need  not 
dwell  on  these  days,  for  it  was  the  same  familiar  story  as  in 
other  visits,  —  he  hastened  to  the  Tyrol,  full  of  memories  and 
the  richest  associations  of  his  years,  and  from  the  Tyrol  he 
passed  into  Switzerland.  From  St.  Moritz  he  writes  to  Mr. 
Robert  Treat  Paine :  — 

1  Cf.  Review  of  Reviews,  March,  1S93. 


9o6  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

August  8, 1S92. 
My  dear  Bob,  — •  How  terrible  it  is,  all  of  this  Homestead 
business !  And  yet  how  hopeful,  for  it  would  all  have  been  im- 
possible a  hundred  years  ago,  when  men  did  not  question  the 
ownership  of  human  creatures  by  human  creatures  in  a  hundred 
forms.  It  is  the  old  battle  of  man  for  his  true  place  which  has 
always  been  going  on.  Darwin  and  his  folks  find  it  even  before 
man  was  at  all,  and  nobody  has  yet  begun  to  know  where  the  end 
will  be.  But  one  of  the  most  puzzling  and  interesting  and  dis- 
tressing of  the  episodes  of  the  great  battle  has  been  given  to  our 
age  to  fight,  and,  with  countless  blunders  and  cruelties  such  as 
war  always  brings,  I  think  that  we  are  fighting  it  pretty  well. 

To  his  friend  the  Bishop  of  Rhode  Island,  keeping  the 
eightieth  birthday,  he  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

St.  Moeitz,  Switzekland,  August  10, 1892. 

Dear  Bishop  Clark,  —  When  a  man  can  write  a  letter  such 
as  this  of  yours,  to  tell  the  story  of  his  eightieth  birthday  past 
and  over,  he  is  indeed  snapping  his  venerable  fingers  in  the  face 
of  Time.  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  wholly  right,  and  that  you  will 
have  to  be  punished  for  it.  There  is  a  mossy  quietude  which 
people  associate  with  your  time  of  life,  and  whose  absence  they 
resent  if  it  does  not  appear.  If,  indeed,  you  are  eighty  after 
all,  and  it  is  not  a  mistake,  or  a  fraud.     Are  you  quite  sure  ? 

As  to  your  legs,  you  must  not  worry  yourself  about  them ;  they 
are  not  what  interests  your  friends.  It  is  not  your  walk,  but 
your  conversation,  that  we  value.  We  will  carry  you  in  our  arms 
so  that  your  feet  shall  not  touch  the  rough,  coarse  earth,  if  you 
will  only  stay  with  us,  and  brighten,  and  enlighten,  and  console, 
and  strengthen,  and  amuse  us.  You  will,  won't  you?  I  wish 
that  you  were  here  this  morning.  It  is  more  bright  and  splendid 
than  I  know  how  to  describe.  I  will  not  try,  but  your  ever 
young  imagination  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  I  will  tell  you 
by  and  by. 

Need  I  say  that  I  shall  rejoice  to  be  presented  in  the  queer  old 
House  by  you  ?  It  will  crown  your  deeds  and  kindnesses  in  all 
this  business. 

Good-by.     God  bless  you.     Keep  well.     Be  good. 

Your  grateful  friend,  P.  B. 

To  Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar,  who  had  now  left  him :  — 

Chamocki,  August  27,  1892. 
Dear  William,  —  It  is  a  superb  day  here.     The  great  moun- 
tain was  never  clearer  nor  more  beautiful.     The  sky  is  cloudless, 


mt.  55-56]       CORRESPONDENCE  907 

and  the  snow  reaches  up  to  heaven,  and  they  are  bringing  down 
over  the  tremendous  white  slope  the  dead  hody  of  a  poor  fellow 
who  died  up  there  in  the  storm  day  before  yesterday.  You  can 
see  them  through  the  telescope  in  the  hotel  yard.  It  is  a  won- 
derful funeral  procession.  It  is  as  if  he  had  gone  up  there  to 
dispatch  his  soul  to  heaven,  and  they  were  bringing  the  poor, 
done-with  body  down.  He  is  an  Oxford  man,  they  say,  named 
Nettleship. 

On  Thursday,  September  8,  Phillips  Brooks  sailed  for 
America,  on  the  steamship  Pavonia.  The  Rev.  John  C. 
Brooks  recalls  him,  on  that  day  in  the  Adelphi  Hotel  at  Liv- 
erpool, where  all  was  confusion  and  excitement  around  him, 
sitting  on  the  lower  steps  of  the  stairway,  with  his  arms  rest- 
ing on  his  walking  stick  and  his  head  bowed  low,  remaining 
in  that  position  there  for  an  hour  or  more,  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  the  scene  before  him.  He  seemed  to  be  taking  his 
last  leave  of  the  Old  World,  as  if  he  knew  that  he  should 
come  again  no  more.  Among  the  letters  which  he  wrote  on 
board  ship  is  one  to  Mr.  Robert  Maconachie  in  India  :  — 

S.  S.  Pavonia,  September  10,  1892. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  It  must  seem  to  you  as  if  I  never  had 
received  your  letter,  or  as  if  I  did  not  care  about  it.  The  truth 
is,  that  I  did  receive  it,  and  that  I  did  care  about  it  a  great 
deal.  I  have  read  it  often,  and  it  lies  before  me  now  as,  after 
all  these  months,  I  sit  down  on  the  steamship  which  is  carrying 
me  home,  to  send  you  a  word  of  greeting  and  most  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment of  your  remembrance. 

I  never  forget  the  days  we  spent  together.  How  can  I? 
When  one  meets  a  fellow  man  and  finds  him  simply  and  devoutly 
interested  in  the  dear  Master  whom  one  loves  and  in  the  human 
creatures  for  whom  the  Master  lived  and  died,  there  is  no  possi- 
bility of  forgetting. 

All  that  you  tell  me  of  yourself  and  of  the  work  which  has 
been  put  into  your  hands  is  of  the  deepest  interest  to  me.  I 
know  almost  nothing  of  what  the  details  of  your  daily  life  must 
be.  It  is  enough  that  you  are  where  your  duty  brings  you  into 
continual  and  intimate  association  with  men  and  all  their  myste- 
rious capacity.  That  cannot  be  without  the  Word  of  God  finding 
expression,  and  the  power  of  God  coming  into  influence  through 
you  on  them. 

It  is  all  one  constant  Incarnation.     All  the  spiritual  meanings 


9o8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

of  the  Gospel  and  the  Church  are  renewed  with  every  such  active 
love  and  power  of  a  Christian  soul.  The  accident  of  formal 
ordination  is  a  trifle.  "As  my  Father  hath  sent  me,  so  send  I 
you,"  is  the  unmistakahle  commission. 

I  have  been  spending  a  summer  abroad,  much  of  it  in  your 
beautiful,  delightful  England.  Would  that  I  might  have  seen 
you  there !  I  should  not  again  have  driven  •you  to  camp  out  in 
the  yard  while  I  took  possession  of  your  quarters,  as  I  did  in 
Delhi.  But  I  have  a  strong  feeling  that,  while  we  should  have 
begun  where  we  left  off  in  sympathy  and  friendship,  all  these 
years  which  have  come  since  would  have  opened  a  multitude  of 
new  subjects  of  thought  and  talk  which  would  not  easily  have 
been  exhausted. 

The  new  work  which  has  fallen  to  me  as  Bishop  of  Massachu- 
setts is  all  in  the  old  lines  and  makes  me  more  I  hope,  but  still 
the  same.  Certainly  it  makes  me  rejoice  more  than  ever  in  such 
words  as  yours.  May  the  time  come  when  I  shall  hear  them 
from  your  own  mouth !  I  hope  you  can  give  my  love  to  the  dear 
Delhi  men,  Lefroy  and  Allnut  and  Carlyon.  You  will  remember 
me  most  kindly  to  your  wife,  and  you  will  be  sure  that  I  always 
delight  to  hear  from  you. 

God  bless  you  bountifully. 

Your  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 


THE   HOUSE   IN   BOSTON 

A  pleasant  house  stands  in  a  Boston  street, 

With  wide-arched  entrance  opening  to  the  west ; 

Of  all  earth's  houses  that  to  me  is  best. 
There  come  and  go  my  thoughts  with  restless  feet ; 
There  the  quick  years  like  hovering  clouds  have  passed, 

Catching  the  sunlight  on  their  calm  white  breasts ; 

There  Duty  entered  with  her  grave  behests, 
And  there  the  shadow  of  my  sin  was  cast. 
Through  this  broad  door  my  friends  have  brought  their  love, 

Here  need  has  sought  what  help  I  could  bestow, 
Here  happy  study  finds  its  place  below, 
And  peaceful  slumber  fills  the  room  above. 
Down  these  wide  steps,  all  still  from  feet  to  head, 
I  shall  be  carried  after  I  am  dead. 
S.  S.  Pavonia,  September,  1892.1 

1  Another  sonnet,  called  "  The  Waiting  City,"  written  at  the  same  time,  may- 
be found  in  Sermons,  vol.  viii.,  published  after  his  death. 


jet.  SSSQ    ANNIVERSARY   SERVICES       909 

Bishop  Brooks  reached  Boston  on  September  19.  There 
had  been  a  cholera  scare  during  the  summer  which  necessi- 
tated precautions  before  landing.  A  tug  came  up  to  take  the 
cabin  passengers,  and  as  they  set  off  Phillips  Brooks  raised 
his  hat  to  the  steerage  gathered  on  deck  to  watch  the  depar- 
ture, and  bade  them  good-by.  "  He  looked,"  said  one  who 
observed  him,  "  the  picture  of  perfect  health,"  and  in  answer 
to  an  inquiry  said  that  he  was  well,  and  never  better  in  his 
life.  That  undoubtedly  was  the  feeling  of  the  moment,  but  a 
few  weeks  later  he  said  to  his  friend  Learoyd  that  he  was  no 
better  than  when  he  went  away. 

After  his  return  he  resumed  his  work  with  great  vigor. 
How  his  time  was  filled  with  engagements  is  evident  from  a 
letter  written  September  29,  in  answer  to  a  request  from  Mr. 
Samuel  B.  Capen,  chairman  of  the  Boston  School  Committee, 
asking  him  to  make  an  address  at  the  dedication  in  Novem- 
ber of  the  Robert  G.  Shaw  Schoolhouse :  — 

I  have  studied  my  calendar  and  find  that  the  only  two  days  in 
November  which  are  at  all  in  my  power  are  Thursday,  November 
3,  and  Friday,  November  4.  On  both  of  these  days  I  must  leave 
Boston  by  a  5.30  train,  but  earlier  in  each  day  I  shall  be  at  lib- 
erty. During  the  rest  of  the  month  my  duties  call  me  to  other 
parts  of  the  State. 

Sunday,  October  2,  was  hardly  an  exceptional  day  when 
four  times  he  spoke  from  the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church.  At 
nine  o'clock  he  gave  the  anniversary  sermon  before  the  St.  An- 
drew's Brotherhood.  He  preached  at  the  usual  morning 
service  at  ten  o'clock,  and  again  in  the  afternoon  before  the 
congregation  of  Trinity  Church.  Then  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening  he  spoke  at  the  farewell  meeting  of  the  Brotherhood. 
The  church  was  filled  with  the  stalwart,  fine-looking  ranks 
of  young  men  eager  to  hear  the  great  preacher  at  both  the 
services  when  he  addressed  them.  This  was  the  comment  on 
his  appearance :  — 

Bishop  Brooks  looks  rather  improved  since  his  summer  in  Eng- 
land. Although  his  face  is  still  thinner  than  it  used  to  be,  and 
there  is  something  lacking  in  his  manner  of  the  old  fire,  he  ap- 
pears as  strong  as  ever,  and  showed  not  the  least  trace  of  weari- 


9io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

ness  at  the  end  of  his  extraordinary  day's  work.  He  spoke  with 
all  the  old-time  brilliancy  and  power,  and  never  was  more  impres- 
sive than  in  his  parting  exhortation  in  the  evening.  ...  In  the 
early  morning  sermon,  as  he  drew  near  the  close  of  his  sermon, 
he  spoke  more  slowly  than  was  his  wont,  and  his  voice  trembled 
a  little  in  places  as  he  finished  his  glowing  and  earnest  exhorta- 
tion to  his  great  audience  of  young  men.  As  his  voice  sank, 
deathly  stillness  fell  on  the  church,  and  the  congregation  hung  on 
the  last  words  as  if  listening  to  a  celestial  messenger.  The 
solemnity  of  the  awe  amid  which  he  concluded  was  supremely 
impressive. 

At  the  evening  service,  when  he  said  farewell  to  the  young 
men  before  him,  these  were  some  of  his  words :  — 

This  gathering  has  been  a  good  thing.  Carry  now  its  lessons 
into  your  daily  lives.  One  of  the  most  impressive  ways  in  which 
God  brings  things  to  pass  is  the  simplicity  of  the  elements  of 
power.  It  does  not  take  great  men  to  do  great  things,  it  only 
takes  consecrated'  men.  The  earnest,  resolute  man,  whom  God 
works  through,  is  the  medium  by  which  His  greatest  work  is 
often  done. 

Go,  then,  my  brethren,  to  your  blessed  work.  Be  absolutely 
simple.  Be  absolutely  genuine.  Never  say  to  any  one  what  you 
do  not  feel  and  believe  with  your  whole  heart.  Be  simple,  be 
consecrated,  and  above  all  things,  be  pure.  No  man  who  is  not 
himself  pure  can  carry  the  message  of  God. 

And  never  dare  to  hurt  any  soul.  The  most  awful  conscious- 
ness a  man  can  have  is  that  he  has  hurt  a  human  soul  years  ago, 
and  now  has  no  power  to  repair  the  damage.  He  may  have  re- 
covered from  the  injury  to  his  own  being,  but  the  knowledge  that 
he  has  ever  injured  the  soul  of  another  man  or  woman,  who  has 
gone  out  of  his  sight  now,  so  that  he  cannot  know  how  serious 
the  injury  may  have  been,  is  a  terrible  thing  for  any  one  to  know. 

From  the  anniversary  of  the  St.  Andrew's  Brotherhood 
Bishop  Brooks  went  to  Baltimore  to  remain  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  month  in  attendance  on  the  sessions  of  the  General 
Convention,  also  to  take  his  seat  for  the  first  time  in  the 
House  of  Bishops.    To  Mrs.  William  G.  Brooks  he  writes :  — 

House  of  Bishops,  Baltimore,  October  8, 1892. 
You  never  got  a  note  from  the  Bishops'  House  before,  I  think. 
But  while  they  are  receiving  memorials  and  petitions  and  refer- 
ring them  to  committees,  I  take  up  my  pen  to  thank  you  for  your 


-et.  55-56]       THE   NEW   RECTOR  911 

kind  remembrances  of  me,  and  for  the  telegram  and  letter  which 
you  have  sent  me. 

I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  Donald,  which  I  wish  that  I 
could  show  to  all  the  parish  of  Trinity.  It  would  convince  even 
the  most  hesitating  that  they  have  called  the  right  man,  and 
would  make  them  all  most  enthusiastically  desirous  that  he  should 
accept  their  call. 

I  think  he  will  accept,  though  he  will  he  most  conscientiously 
faithful  in  considering  it  before  he  gives  his  decision. 

And  so  dear  old  Tennyson  is  gone!  Nobody  who  has  been 
writing  for  the  last  fifty  years  has  won  such  deep  affection  of  the 
best  men  and  influenced  so  many  lives.  What  days  they  were 
when  we  used  to  go  spouting  "Locksley  Hall"  and  the  "Two 
Voices  "  to  the  winds!  And  what  has  not  "In  Memoriam  "  been 
to  all  of  us !  If  I  had  never  seen  him,  it  would  make  me  sad  to 
know  that  he  was  no  longer  living  on  the  earth.  And  to  have 
seen  him  under  his  own  roof,  and  to  have  had  his  personal  kind- 
ness, will  always  seem  to  me  to  have  been  a  great  and  precious 
privilege. 

Nothing  is  yet  done  here.     I  am  quietly  settled  among  the 
bishops,  and  no  one  has  yet  slapped  my  face. 
With  love  to  all  of  you, 

Affectionately,  P. 

To  Rev.  E.  W.  Donald,  he  writes  regarding  the  call  to 
Trinity  Church,  Boston :  — 

House  of  Bishops,  Baltimore,  October  8,  1892. 

Dear  Donald,  — I  sent  you  yesterday  a  hurried  telegram 
when  I  received  a  message  from  Boston  to  tell  me  of  your  unani- 
mous election  to  be  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston.  I  wish 
you  were  here.  Then  I  would  tell  you  how  very  thankful  I  am. 
Ever  since  the  parish  ceased  to  be  mine  I  have  hoped  that  it 
might  be  yours.  The  people  have  been  steadily  drawn  to  the 
same  wish,  and  now  that  they  have  been  led  to  give  expression 
to  that  desire,  I  want  to  tell  you  how  sure  I  am  that  the  vestry 
and  congregation  are  prepared  to  give  you  the  most  cordial  wel- 
come and  the  heartiest  cooperation  in  your  work  if  you  will  come 
to  them. 

I  think  we  know  how  much  we  are  asking  of  you  in  suggesting 
that  you  should  leave  New  York  and  the  Ascension  to  come  to  us. 
But  we  want  you  very  much  indeed.  You  can  enlarge  and  fulfil 
the  work  that  the  parish  has  been  trying  to  do.  You  understand, 
and  we  believe  you  like,  our  New  England.  You  have  clear  ideas 
of  how  our  church  is  working  in   Massachusetts,   and  what   its 


9i2  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

hopes  and  chances  of  usefulness  in  that  region  are ;  and  we  need 
your  ability  and  spirit  to  appeal  to  a  good,  intelligent,  reasonable, 
true-hearted  folk  such  as  we  have  in  Boston. 

Your  clerical  brethren  will  be  very  glad  if  you  come.  They 
know  and  value  you.  They  think  of  you  as  one  of  themselves 
in  all  your  sympathies  and  feelings.  You  will  make  our  little 
company  richer  and  stronger.  And  I  am  sure  you  will  feel  as 
we  feel,  that,  however  few  and  feeble  we  may  be  in  Massachu- 
setts, there  is  much  that  is  interesting  in  the  constitution  of  the 
clerical  company  in  Massachusetts,  and  of  the  way  in  which  it 
sets  itself  to  do  the  particular  work  that  we  are  set  to  do. 

So  the  parish  and  the  Church  and  the  clergy  want  you.  May 
I  say  how  earnestly  /  want  you  ?  I  have  been  very  anxious  about 
Trinity,  and  it  will  make  me  very  happy  if  I  see  you  take  up  the 
work  there,  and  as  bishop  I  shall  feel  the  diocese  strengthened 
in  a  way  which  will  give  me  great  strength  if  you  will  come. 

Shall  you  not  possibly  be  here  during  Convention  ?  Will  you 
ask  me  any  questions  most  freely? 

But  as  the  result  of  everything,  will  you  accept  ?  I  do  hope 
and  pray  that  you  may. 

Affectionately  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

When  he  learned  that  Dr.  Donald  had  accepted  the  call  to 
the  vacant  rectorship  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Nathaniel  Thayer :  — 

Dear  Mrs.  Thayer,  —  I  thank  you  very  heartily  for  your 
kind  letter.  Yes,  I  am  very  glad  indeed  that  Dr.  Donald  has 
been  chosen  and  has  decided  to  come  to  Trinity.  He  has  been 
my  choice  from  the  beginning,  and  the  whole  movement  towards 
him  has  been  so  steady  and  serious  and  slow  that  I  feel  that  his 
election  has  come  about  in  the  best  possible  way.  I  hope  great 
things  will  come  of  it.  Already  I  hear  what  a  good  impression 
he  made  upon  the  vestry  when  he  met  them  the  other  day,  and 
his  letters  to  me,  first,  on  his  election,  and  then  on  his  determi- 
nation to  accept,  were  beautiful  and  noble  expressions  of  the 
spirit  in  which  he  received  and  accepted  the  call.  I  bid  him 
welcome  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  know  that  he  will  have  as  de- 
lightful a  ministry  as  I  have  had  all  these  years.  But  it  makes 
me  sad  all  the  same  to  have  this  new  token  of  the  fact  that  my 
ministry  at  Trinity  is  over.  How  good  it  all  has  been!  And 
what  kind  friends  rise  up  before  me  as  I  think  over  the  happy 
years !  I  do  not  think  that  I  enjoy  the  remembrance  of  it  any 
the  less  because  I  am  perfectly  aware  how  little  I  have  deserved 
it.  All  the  more  I  feel  the  goodness  of  my  friends,  and  of  them 
all  none  has  been  more  good  to  me,  and  to  none  is  my  heart  more 


jet.  SSS6]      CORRESPONDENCE  913 

full  of  gratitude  than  to  you,  dear  friend.  It  is  good,  indeed, 
that  that  friendship  does  not  go  with  the  rectorship,  but  it  is 
mine  until  I  die,  and  long  afterwards,  I  hope.  I  shall  see  you 
soon,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  how  very  glad  I  was  to  see  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Robb  and  their  children  in  the  Engadine  this  summer. 
How  strange  it  will  be  that  Mrs.  Winthrop  will  not  be  with  us, 
with  her  strong  thoughts  and  kindly  words !  But  more  and  more 
one  feels  that  nothing  which  has  ever  really  been  a  true  part  of 
life  is  lost.  I  remember  my  visit  to  you  with  sincere  delight. 
May  God  bless  you  always. 

Yours  affectionately,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Bishop  Brooks  spent  Sunday,  October  9,  in  Philadelphia, 
preaching  in  the  morning  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
from  the  text,  "Before  Abraham  was  I  am."  There  were 
some  few  of  his  sermons  at  this  time  in  which  he  concentrated 
the  essence  of  his  thought  and  experience,  and  this  was  one  of 
them,  —  the  eternal  consciousness  of  humanity  as  embodied 
in  Christ.  He  took  the  occasion,  also,  to  speak  of  the  death 
of  Tennyson,  quoting  the  lines  "  Crossing  the  Bar."  In  the 
evening  of  the  same  day  he  preached  for  Mr.  Cooper  at  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles,  and  then  he  took  the  same 
text  on  which  he  had  written  his  first  sermon  while  in  the 
seminary  at  Alexandria,  "  The  Simplicity  that  is  in  Jesus." 
A  strange  impressiveness  hung  about  both  these  services. 
One  who  listened  to  the  evening  sermon  saw  in  it  a  vindica- 
tion of  his  own  career,  as  he  set  forth  the  Christian  faith  in 
its  simplicity  compared  with  the  difficulty  and  complexity  in 
which  others  sought  to  envelop  it.  "But  he  looked  tired" 
was  the  comment  on  his  appearance. 

Philadelphia,  October  9,  1892. 
Dear  Arthur,  — ...  This  morning  I  go  back  to  the  House 
of  Bishops.  It  is  a  queer  place.  There  is  an  air  about  it  which 
comes  distinctly  from  their  seclusion.  They  ought  to  open  their 
doors.  They  have  a  lot  of  good  men  among  them,  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  good  work  done,  but  there  is  every  now  and  then  a 
silliness  which  would  not  be  possible  if  the  world  were  listening. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

In  a  letter  to  Lady  Frances  Baillie  he  alludes  again  to 
Tennyson :  — 
vol.  n 


9 H  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  October  12, 1892. 

Dear  Lady  Frances,  —  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  my 
thoughts  have  been  with  you  since  that  day  in  September  when  I 
left  you  in  your  bed,  and  carried  away  the  strange  and  sad  re- 
membrance of  your  illness.  I  hope  you  have  felt  my  anxious 
thought  flying  about  your  head.  It  seems  so  strange  to  think 
that  you  were  not  upon  your  feet  holding  open  your  hospitable 
house  and  heart  to  friends  from  all  the  world!  I  have  heard 
nothing  since,  but  I  most  sincerely  trust  that  those  days  are  over, 
and  that  you  are  well  again. 

One  dares  less  and  less  to  offer  commiseration  to  a  friend  for 
any  calamity  of  outward  life.  So  many  times  it  is  out  of  the  heart 
of  these  calamities  that  the  richest  and  sweetest  mercies  of  God 
have  come,  that  I  grow  afraid  lest  I  shall  be  found  pitying  my 
friend  for  the  very  best  blessing  which  God  has  ever  sent  him. 
I  can  only  hope  that  what  the  good  God  had  to  give  you  out  of 
His  hand  of  suffering  may  have  been  so  completely  given  and 
received,  that  that  hand  may  have  been  withdrawn  leaving  you 
some  way  richer  and  happier  for  its  touch.  I  long  to  hear  from 
you.  Would  that  I  could  climb  your  quaint  doorstep  and  face 
your  quaint  old  man,  who  would  smile  on  me  and  tell  me  how 
you  are ! 

And  the  great  poet  has  gone !  I  shall  thank  you  all  my  life, 
as  for  many  other  goodnesses,  so  especially  for  securing  me  the 
privilege  of  seeing  Tennyson  and  hearing  him  talk  and  read,  and 
catching  sight  of  the  beauty  of  his  household  life.  How  different 
life  would  have  been  for  us  if  he  had  not  lived !  And  how  his 
personal  look  and  life  blend  with  his  poetry,  and  all  together 
make  one  great  gift  of  God  to  the  world ! 

God  bless  you  and  be  with  you,  my  dear  friend.  May  every 
day  bring  you  new  strength  and  comfort.  Think  of  me  some- 
times, and  be  sure  that  I  am  always, 

Affectionately  and  gratefully  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

What  the  relationship  of  Tennyson  had  been  to  Phillips 
Brooks  is  indicated  in  this  extract  from  a  letter  to  him  by 
Lord  Tennyson,  the  poet's  son  :  "  My  Father  had  a  great  de- 
light in  your  companionship.  One  of  the  last  things  which 
I  read  to  him  was  a  sermon  of  yours." 

To  his  niece,  Miss  Gertrude  Brooks,  he  wrote  :  — 

Hoobe  of  Bishops,  Baltimore,  October  20, 1892. 
My  dear  Gert,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  pretty  letter,   and 
while   the   stupid   bishops    are   making   stupid   speeches    I    will 


jet.  55-56]       CORRESPONDENCE  915 

answer  it.  It  is  very  sad  indeed  to  think  that  dear  old  Tennyson 
is  dead.  What  a  dark  day  it  must  have  been  down  at  their  beau- 
tiful home  while  he  lay  dying;  and  how  solemn  the  Abbey  must 
have  seemed  while  they  were  carrying  him  down  the  long  nave 
to  his  grave  in  the  Poet's  Corner! 

Baltimore  is  a  very  pretty  city,  with  a  distinctly  Southern 
character,  and  no  end  of  colored  boys  and  girls  about  the  street. 
Everybody  has  been  very  hospitable ;  plenty  of  terrapin  and  crabs, 
and  all  the  lower  luxuries  of  life.  We  meet  every  morning  at 
ten  o'clock,  and  sit  till  one.  (It  wants  twenty  minutes  of  one 
now.)  Then  we  go  down  into  the  basement  and  have  a  luncheon; 
and  then  we  go  out  into  a  tent  in  the  yard  and  have  a  smoke. 
At  half  past  two  we  meet  again  and  sit  till  five.  At  six  we  are 
apt  to  have  an  invitation  to  dine  with  somebody.  If  nobody  has 
asked  us,  we  dine  at  the  Albion,  and  then  have  two  hours  of 
evening  sitting,  and  then  go  home  and  have  a  smoke  and  go  to 
bed.  And  then  we  do  the  same  thing  over  again  the  next  day. 
The  bishops  are  not  very  wise,  but  they  think  they  are,  and  they 
very  much  enjoy  being  bishops. 

You  were  very  good  to  remember  my  anniversary  [of  his  conse- 
cration]. You  were  with  me  when  they  came  to  tell  me  I  had 
been  elected,  and  so  you  were  the  first  person  who  heard  of  it 
outside  of  the  Convention  that  did  it. 

You  must  come  to  see  me  when  I  get  home  next  week,  and 
then  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it.  Till  then  I  send  my  love  to  all 
your  good  folks,  and  am 

Yours  affectionately,  P. 

Of  Bishop  Brooks  at  the  convention  Mr.  Sowdon  writes :  — 

In  the  Convention  of  1892  in  Baltimore  he  often  came  into 
the  Lower  House,  and  to  the  pews  of  the  Massachusetts  deputies, 
and  seemed  to  find  the  debates  of  the  house  in  which  he  had  so 
often  sat  far  more  interesting  than  those  of  the  House  of  Bishops. 
There  he  was  sure  of  a  warm  welcome  from  us  and  all  the  dele- 
gates near  us. 

In  the  discussions  in  the  House  of  Bishops  he  took  but 
little  part,  yet  that  little  was  significant.  He  opposed  a 
proposition  to  make  the  Sixty-ninth  Psalm  a  part  of  the 
Evening  Prayer  on  Good  Friday.  The  words  of  Christ  upon 
the  cross,  "Father,  forgive  them  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do,"  were  incompatible  with  the  imprecation  of  the  Psalm, 
"  Pour  out  thine  indignation  upon  them ;  and  let  thy  wrath- 
ful displeasure  take  hold  of  them." 


916  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

The  most  impressive  event  during  Bishop  Brooks's  sojourn 
in  Baltimore  was  an  address  to  the  students  of  Johns  Hop- 
kins University.  Many  had  been  the  invitations  he  had 
received  to  address  its  students,  but  for  some  good  reason 
he  had  hitherto  been  prevented  from  accepting  them.  When 
he  was  now  invited,  he  wrote,  "I  find  it  very  difficult  to  say 
Yes,  but  I  find  it  quite  impossible  to  say  No."  He  wished 
to  know  in  advance  what  kind  of  a  meeting  it  would  be  pro- 
posed to  hold.  So  many  persons  had  expressed  a  desire  to 
hear  him  that  a  neighboring  church  had  been  suggested  as 
a  suitable  place.  But  his  preference  was  "to  speak  to  the 
students  by  themselves,  in  one  of  their  own  halls,  and  at  an 
hour  when  they  are  wonted  to  come  together."  His  wishes 
were  respected,  and  but  few  were  present  except  members  of 
the  University.  The  time  was  Thursday,  the  13th  of  Octo- 
ber, at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Prom  the  account  writ- 
ten at  the  time  these  other  particulars  are  taken :  — 

Many  who  were  present  found  the  scene  unusually  impressive. 
The  eager  attention  of  the  crowded  audience  of  students  and  pro- 
fessors; the  intense  earnestness  of  the  speaker,  expressing  itself 
in  an  utterance  even  more  rapid  and  impetuous  than  was  his 
wont;  the  peculiar  sympathy  with  students  which  was  so  charac- 
teristic of  Bishop  Brooks  (and  of  which  one  was  conscious  from 
his  first  word  to  his  last) ;  his  attitude  and  movements,  walking 
back  and  forth  behind  the  lecture-desk,  leaning  forward  over  it 
as  though  to  come  into  closer  relation  with  his  audience;  the 
gathering  darkness  of  the  autumn  afternoon,  —  all  was  singularly 
inspiring  and  affecting.  Three  gentlemen  among  the  older  per- 
sons in  the  audience,  who  happened  to  leave  the  room  in  com- 
pany, agreed  in  remarking  upon  a  certain  unearthliness  in  the 
address,  such  as  might  be  expected  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  had 
not  long  to  live. 

No  report  of  the  address  was  taken  at  the  time,  but  the 
students  jotted  down  sentences  which  struck  them,  and  when 
these  were  put  together,  some  idea  was  given  of  what  seemed 
like  farewell  words.    He  quoted  from  "The  Two  Voices : "  — 

'T  is  life,  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
O  life,  not  death,  for  which  we  pant ; 
More  life,  and  fuller,  that  I  want. 


jet.  55-56]     AN   IMPRESSIVE  ADDRESS     917 

The  address  was  the  summary  of  convictions  then  and  for 
the  last  few  years  prominent  in  his  mind.  And  among  them 
none  was  more  prominent  than  this,  that  the  next  twenty -five 
years  were  to  be  full  of  a  larger  revelation  of  God  than  the 
world  had  yet  seen.  Everything  that  came  under  his  obser- 
vation pointed  in  this  direction.  "In  every  direction  activity 
is  pushing  further  than  it  ever  has  before.  Under  these 
conditions  Christianity  will  mean  more  in  the  coming  gener- 
ation than  it  ever  has,  or  it  will  mean  less." 

The  great  question  underlying  all  the  controversies  between 
science  and  religion  is  whether  Christianity  proposes  to  restrain, 
prohibit,  destroy,  and  then  build  up  something  new  upon  the  old 
foundation;  or  whether  it  proposes  to  take  humanity  as  it  is,  and 
by  opening  up  to  it  new  and  unthought-of  possibilities,  develop 
it  into  the  measure  of  the  fulness  of  Christ.  What,  then,  is 
Christianity  ?  It  is  not  something  added  to  us  from  without ;  it 
is  not  a  foreign  element  in  our  souls ;  the  Christian  is  not  some 
strange  creature,  but  a  man  developed  to  his  normal  condition. 

Christianity  is  not  the  intruder,  but  sin.  "Christianity  seeks 
not  to  cramp  man's  nature,  saying  to  him  constantly,  *  Thou  shalt 
not ;  '  but  it  leads  on,  up  to  freer  air  and  wider  space,  wherein 
the  soul  may  disport  itself."  It  is  God  we  follow.  Obeying 
God  is  freedom.  "Our  souls  are  like  closed  rooms,  and  God  is 
the  sunlight.  Every  new  way  we  find  in  which  to  obey  Him  we 
throw  open  a  shutter.  Our  souls  are  as  enclosed  bays,  and  God 
is  the  ocean.  The  only  barrier  that  can  hinder  free  communi- 
cation is  disobedience.  Remember  that  each  duty  performed  is 
the  breaking  down  of  a  reef  of  hindrance  between  our  souls  and 
God,  permitting  the  fulness  of  His  being  to  flow  in  upon  our 
souls."  And  so  "we,  who  in  a  peculiar  sense  are  consecrated 
to  Truth,  are  better  students  because  we  are  Christians,  and  bet- 
ter Christians  because  we  are  students."  It  is  when  we  remem- 
ber the  greatness  of  the  nature  which  God  has  given  us  that  we 
come  into  a  full  understanding  of  our  relations  to  God.  At  some 
time  every  man  comes  to  realize  the  meaning  of  the  life  he  is 
living;  the  secret  sins  hidden  in  his  heart  rise  against  him. 
Then  we  would  hide  ourselves  from  God  if  we  could.  "But  the 
only  way  to  run  from  God  is  to  run  to  Him.  The  Infinite  Know- 
ledge is  also  the  Infinite  Pity."  "God  is  not  an  enemy  seeking 
to  catch  us  with  cunningly  devised  schemes, "  but  our  sympathizer 
and  friend.  "God  wants  to  save  us  if  we  will  let  Him."  "I 
came  not  to  judge  the  world,  but  to  save  the  world."     And  how 


9i8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

shall  we  gain  nearness  to  God  and  power  ?  "  We  never  become 
truly  spiritual  by  sitting  down  and  wishing  to  become  so.  You 
must  undertake  something  so  great  that  you  cannot  accomplish  it 
unaided.  Begin  doing  something  for  your  fellow  men,  and  if  you 
do  it  with  all  your  power,  it  will  almost  immediately  bring  you 
face  to  face  with  problems  you  cannot  solve ;  you  need  God,  and 
you  go  to  God."  You  may  meet  difficulties  and  trials;  they  call 
for  no  less  devotion,  but  more.  "Hindrances  are  like  the  ob- 
structions in  a  river's  bed.  Do  not  dam  up  the  flow,  but  turn 
on  a  fuller  flood  till  the  current  sweeps  away  the  rubbish  and 
runs  under  and  around  and  over  the  stones,  and  flows  smooth 
above  them."  Think  of  the  fulness.  "I  am  come  that  men 
might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more  abundantly." 
So,  in  trying  to  win  a  man  to  a  better  life,  "show  him,  not  the 
evil,  but  the  nobleness  of  his  nature. "  Lead  him  to  enthusiastic 
contemplations  of  humanity  in  its  perfection,  and  when  he  asks, 
"Why,  if  this  is  so,  do  not  I  have  this  life?"  then  project  on 
the  background  of  his  enthusiasm  his  own  life.  Say  to  him, 
"Because  you  are  a  liar,  because  you  blind  your  soul  with  licen- 
tiousness." Shame  is  born,  but  not  a  shame  of  despair.  It  is 
soon  changed  to  joy.  Christianity  becomes  an  opportunity,  a 
high  privilege,  the  means  of  attaining  to  the  most  exalted  ideal, 
—  and  the  only  means.  Herein  must  lie  all  real  power;  herein 
lay  Christ's  power,  that  He  appreciated  the  beauty  and  richness 
of  humanity,  that  it  is  very  near  the  Infinite,  very  near  to  God. 
These  two  facts  —  we  are  the  children  of  God,  and  God  is  our 
Father  —  make  us  look  very  differently  at  ourselves,  very  differ- 
ently at  our  neighbors,  very  differently  at  God.  "We  should  be 
surprised,  not  at  our  good  deeds,  but  at  our  bad  ones."  We 
should  expect  good  as  more  likely  to  occur  than  evil;  "we  should 
believe  that  our  best  moments  are  our  truest." 

There  are  three  conditions  of  human  nature :  first,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  utter  ignorance;  second,  the  conflict,  even  misery,  of  the 
first  stages  of  intelligence ;  third,  the  full  fruition  of  a  complete 
knowledge.  To  these  conditions  Christian  experience  is  parallel. 
Therefore,  when  you  encounter  doubt,  difficulties,  push  on ;  they 
will  soon  issue  in  the  higher  and  more  perfect  understanding. 
"Whatever  happens,  always  remember  the  mysterious  richness  of 
human  nature,  and  the  nearness  of  God  to  each  one  of  us." 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Episcopalian  Club  in  Boston,  October 
31,  to  welcome  the  delegates  to  the  General  Convention, 
Bishop  Brooks  was  present  and  spoke.  Referring  to  the  prac- 
tice of  the  bishops  sitting  with  closed  doors,  he  said  it  was 


jet.  55-56]  THE   BURDEN  919 

un-American,  and  sure  to  be  amended  some  day  or  other. 
He  reviewed  the  work  of  the  convention,  —  the  completion  of 
the  revision  of  the  Prayer  Book,  the  new  Hymnal,  the  in- 
crease in  the  number  of  the  missionary  bishops.  "  One  thing 
which  we  in  Massachusetts,"  he  humorously  remarked,  "  are 
especially  to  be  congratulated  on,  is  that  every  proposition 
offered  by  the  Massachusetts  delegates  was  negatived  almost 
without  a  division."  November  opened  with  an  interesting 
event,  the  formal  dedication  of  the  Diocesan  House  on  Joy 
Street.  He  had  selected  the  building,  given  cheerfully  to  it, 
and  had  offered  to  give  more  if  it  were  needed.  He  wanted 
it  made  attractive,  and  for  this  purpose  had  sent  many  en- 
gravings for  its  walls.  In  his  speech  at  the  dedication,  he 
expressed  the  hope  that  it  would  be  "  a  place  of  friendly 
meetings,  the  cultivation  of  brotherly  friendship  and  good 
will."  He  referred  to  its  having  formerly  been  a  private 
residence  and  as  possessing  "a  homelike  atmosphere,  sancti- 
fied by  all  the  sweet  and  tender  relations  of  family  life." 

And  now  the  work  of  the  diocese  claimed  the  services  of 
the  bishop  ;  the  visitation  of  the  parishes  began ;  every  day, 
every  hour  almost,  had  its  fixed  appointment.  Henceforth 
there  was  hardly  an  opportunity  for  rest.  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell 
had  been  hopeful  that  the  change  to  a  bishop's  life  would  call 
for  physical  activity  which  would  be  beneficial.  It  might 
have  been,  but  the  pace  which  Bishop  Brooks  had  set,  or  was 
set  for  him,  was  too  rapid,  too  much  for  any  man  to  assume 
with  impunity.  He  not  only  made  the  regular  visitation  of 
the  parishes,  but  he  was  asked  to  grace  with  his  presence 
and  words  occasions  of  parochial  interest  of  various  kinds. 
He  made  no  effort  to  spare  himself,  and  indeed  had  he  done 
so  escape  would  now  have  been  impossible.  Once,  for  exam- 
ple, when  he  had  already  preached  in  the  morning  and  after- 
noon extemporaneously,  he  proposed  to  himself  to  lighten  the 
burden  by  preaching  a  written  sermon  in  the  evening.  But 
the  pulpit  board  was  too  low  for  his  height,  and  after  strug- 
gling with  a  few  pages,  he  broke  away  from  his  manuscript 
into  extemporaneous  utterance.  "  Then  we  had  it,"  said  one 
who  gave  an  account  of  the  circumstance. 


920  PHILLIPS  BROOKS        [1891-92 

Not  until  it  was  too  late  did  the  realization  come  that  he 
was  carrying  a  burden  of  his  own  creating  too  heavy  for  him, 
or  for  any  man,  to  bear. 

He  had  struck  [says  Bishop  Lawrence]  a  high  key  of  emotion 
and  of  consecration  upon  his  entrance  into  the  episcopate.  This 
led  him  also  to  set  a  killing  pace  of  work.  Whether  he  had  the 
seeds  of  disease  in  him  at  the  time  of  his  consecration  I  do  not 
know.  It  was  clear  to  all  that  he  was  not  physically  what  he 
had  been,  but,  even  if  he  had  had  the  physique  of  fifteen  years 
before,  he  could  not  have  stood  the  strain  many  years,  for  it  was 
one  that  was  bound  to  increase,  unless  he  should  change  his  whole 
manner  of  life,  and  such  a  change  was  to  him  out  of  the  question. 
When  one  thinks  that  at  the  time  he  became  bishop  he  still  car- 
ried many  of  the  cares  incident  to  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church; 
was  called  for  by  those  sick  or  in  affliction ;  that  his  house,  which 
was  always  open  to  the  people  of  Trinity  Church  and  others,  was 
more  than  ever  the  refuge  of  every  citizen  who  was  in  trouble,  — 
one  sees  how  the  drain  on  his  time  and  sympathies  went  on.  In 
addition  to  this,  clergymen  now  turned  to  him  as  never  before, 
pouring  into  his  ears  their  cares  and  difficulties.  Candidates  for 
Orders  sought  him  for  advice  in  greater  as  well  as  smaller  things. 
The  fact  that  he  had  become  bishop  must  have  brought  him  invi- 
tations many  times  more  frequent  than  before.  With  all  these 
things  he  made  in  the  eight  months  after  his  consecration  a  larger 
number  of  visitations  than  any  other  bishop  in  the  American 
Church,  or  I  believe  in  Christian  history,  ever  did  in  the  same 
length  of  time.  Through  the  pressure  of  friends  he  had  a  steno- 
grapher, but  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  close  his  door  from  early 
morning  to  late  at  night  to  anybody,  and  the  stream  continued 
throughout  the  day.  We  know  how  dependent  he  was  upon  re- 
laxation, —  the  free,  uninterrupted  talk  with  friends,  his  smoking 
and  reading;  these  were  broken  in  upon,  and  the  strain  began  to 
show  itself.  There  came  a  shrinking  from  adding  to  his  engage- 
ments. I  remember  standing  beside  him  when  a  clergyman  asked 
him  to  make  an  engagement  for  some  evening,  and  he  looked 
over  his  little  book,  which,  you  remember,  he  carried  in  his  vest 
pocket,  and  said,  with  something  of  irritation  and  something  of 
a  sigh,  "I  have  not  a  free  evening  for  five  months."  Candidates 
who  went  to  him  sometimes  found  him  impatient.  I  remember 
his  making  this  remark  to  me,  "Lawrence,  why  can't  you  teach 
your  young  men  when  they  come  to  see  me  to  come  to  the  point 
immediately,  and  state  their  business  and  be  off?  They  should 
not  waste  my  time."      "Strange,"  he  said,   as  he  jotted  down 


jet.  55-56]  IMPRESSIONS  921 

a  duty  which  ought  never  to  have  heen  pressed  on  him,  "how- 
selfish  some  people  are."  I  mention  these  because,  as  we  well 
know,  they  were  so  different  from  his  usual  temper.  There  was 
never  a  man  so  free  with  his  time,  never  one  so  ready  to  yield 
to  the  convenience  of  others,  and  never  one  so  glad  to  have  young 
men  come  and  talk  to  him,  but  he  was  being  killed  by  the  pres- 
sure, and  no  urgency  of  friends  could  prevent  it.  No  one  ever 
heard  any  complaint  of  this  kind  from  him  until  he  got  well  into 
the  episcopate  and  his   nervous   system  began  to  give  way.     I 

think  it  was who  told  me  he  happened  to  meet  him  just  as 

he  was  getting  into  his  carriage  to  go  to  the  supper  of  the  choir 
of  Grace  Church,  Newton,  where  he  made  his  last  address.     He 

was  very  sick  and  tired,  and  his  last  words  to were,   "It  is 

this  sort  of  thing  that  is  killing  me."  He  was  ready  to  do  the 
preaching  and  make  the  visitations,  but  the  social  pressure,  and 
the  pressure  of  unnecessary  duties  and  unreasonable  people,  wore 
him  out. 

I  had  no  idea  that  he  showed  his  exhaustion  to  others  until  I 
went  to  Framingham  for  the  first  time,  and  as  I  sat  down  in 
a  chair  among  persons  who  were  strangers  to  me,  and  must  have 
been  strangers  to  Brooks,  they  said,  "Last  year  Bishop  Brooks 
came  into  this  room  looking  sick  and  haggard.  He  dropped  into 
that  chair  and  asked  to  be  let  alone,  and  he  remained  there  per- 
fectly silent  and  apparently  exhausted  for  an  hour  or  two."  One 
might  say  that  he  did  so  in  order  to  escape  being  bored  by  strangers. 
It  was  that  partly;  but  more  than  that,  complete  exhaustion. 

Perhaps  I  have  emphasized  this  too  much,  but  we  all  know  the 
joy  with  which  he  undertook  the  work,  and  the  undertone  of  joy 
that  there  was  in  it  to  the  end.  With  all  this,  the  physique  was 
giving  way.  I  am  confident  that,  if  he  had  had  full  strength 
and  had  lived  a  few  years  longer,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  him  to  keep  up  the  pace.  "When  a  man  is  doing  his  work 
well,  responsibilities  always  increase,  and  there  would  not  have 
been  hours  enough  in  the  day  for  him  to  get  through  what  he  had 
to  do.  I  have  said,  and  I  believe,  that  it  would  have  been 
almost  impossible  for  him  radically  to  change  his  methods  and 
system.  It  was  part  of  his  nature  to  see  everybody  who  wanted 
to  see  him  and  to  help  everybody  who  wanted  help.  Without 
that  radical  change,  he  must  have  gone  under  in  a  few  years,  as 
he  did  at  the  end  of  fifteen  months. 

Many  were  watching  Phillips  Brooks  with  a  sense  of  awe 
as  he  was  now  fulfilling  the  purpose  of  his  life,  "  abasing  " 
himself  in  order  to  "  abound :  "  — 


922  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1891-92 

The  very  lavishness  of  his  giving  stimulated  unconscious  ex- 
travagance in  demanding,  so  that  all  this  community  and  all  this 
people  laid  their  claims  upon  him,  and  he  honored  them  till  the 
tension  grew  so  strong  that  at  last  the  strong  man  broke  and  he 
was  laid  low,  a  sacrifice  to  service,  his  life  as  truly  given  for  his 
fellow  men  as  any  life  that  was  ever  laid  on  the  altar  of  sacrifice, 
from  the  day  of  Calvary  to  now. 

There  were  two  sermons  often  repeated  in  these  last 
months,  expressing  the  convictions  uppermost  in  his  soul,  — 
one  of  them  on  the  words,  "I  follow  after  if  that  I  may 
apprehend  that  for  which  also  I  am  apprehended  of  Christ 
Jesus,"  where  he  spoke  of  living  more  deeply  in  the  past  as 
an  essential  condition  of  human  progress ;  the  other  on  the 
eternal  consciousness  of  humanity  embodied  in  Christ,  "  Be- 
fore Abraham  was,  I  am."  Whatever  he  now  did  seemed  to 
be  great  and  solemn  beyond  expression.  That  indefinable 
something  in  the  man  was  never  more  apparent  than  when 
he  was  administering  the  rite  of  confirmation,  even  in  some 
small  and  obscure  mission. 

I  have  seen  [says  one  describing  such  an  occasion]  the  cere- 
mony of  confirmation  hundreds  of  times,  but  never  in  its  com- 
pleteness before.  ...  I  asked  those  in  my  company  as  we  walked 
away  if  they  had  been  similarly  influenced,  and  I  found  the  four 
of  us  were  of  one  mind.  It  was  a  never-to-be-forgotten  sight. 
I  have  seen  great  sights  in  my  life.  I  have  seen  all  England 
welcoming  the  young  Danish  princess  to  her  English  home;  the 
return  of  the  guards  from  the  Crimea.  The  great  heart  of  the 
people  throbbed  on  these  occasions  as  I  have  never  seen  it  since. 
I  saw  Napoleon  and  Paris  welcome  the  African  troops  on  their 
return  from  the  desert  fields  of  battle ;  I  have  seen  Grant  and 
Sherman  welcomed ;  I  have  witnessed  the  thrilling  effect  of  war 
standards,  with  strips  of  the  national  colors  still  clinging  to  them, 
carried  in  the  streets  crowded  with  people.  But  what  are  these  in 
memory  compared  to  the  touch  of  the  divine  I  witnessed  in  the 
little  church  that  Sunday  evening,  .  .  .  which  made  this  man 
seem  something  more  than  human  in  the  eyes  of  many ! 

He  was  lonely  in  these  days  and  hungered  for  human  com- 
panionship. People,  many  there  were,  who  would  gladly  have 
gone  to  him,  but  kept  away  for  fear  they  would  intrude  on 
his  time  or  interfere  with  important  work.     To  Mr.  Deland, 


mt.  55-56]      CORRESPONDENCE  923 

who  was  often  with  him  after  the  day's  work  was  over,  he 
said,  when  entreating  him  to  stay  longer,  "  I  need  you  more 
than  any  one  else  can  need  you."  In  conversation  he  talked 
more  freely.  He  spoke  of  his  mother,  what  she  was  and  what 
she  had  been  to  him.  He  wished  that  he  might  hear  again 
the  sound  of  her  voice  speaking  to  him.  He  went  whenever 
he  could  get  the  opportunity  to  his  brother's  house,  or  to  the 
house  of  Rev.  Leighton  Parks,  where  he  had  been  for  years 
in  the  habit  of  going  for  relief  and  recreation.  His  short 
notes  to  Rev  Charles  H.  Learoyd  show  how  he  was  turning 
to  his  friends  :  — 

Boston,  September  17, 1892. 
Dear  Charles,  —  I'm  awfully  sorry  that  I  cannot  be  with 
you  to-morrow.     I  make  a  visitation  at  North  Andover.     I  am 
hungry  for  the  sight  of  you. 

Again,  October  28,  he  writes  him:  "I  want  to  see  you 
frightfully.  You  '11  come  next  Monday,  won't  you,  and  spend 
the  night?  "  On  November  29,  he  writes  :  "  You  won't  fail 
me  next  Monday,  will  you  ?  The  last  Club  was  no  Club  with- 
out you.    And  you  '11  stay  here,  won't  you  ?  "    And  again :  — 

Boston,  December  1,  1892. 
My  dear  Charles,  —  Be  sure  that  I  shall  count  on  seeing 
you  on  Monday  at  six  o'clock.     You  must  stay  over  here  Tuesday 
and  Wednesday,  and  as  much  longer  as  you  will.     You  cannot 
come  too  early  or  too  often,  or  remain  too  long. 

Affectionately  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  Lady  Frances  Baillie  he  wrote :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  November  8, 1892. 

Dear  Friend,  — When  I  came  home  last  night  from  a  week's 
wandering  about  my  diocese,  I  found  a  letter  from  your  son 
Albert  on  my  table,  for  which  I  was  very  grateful.  It  told  me 
about  you,  and  almost  seemed  for  the  moment  to  set  me  in  your 
room  again  and  let  me  take  your  hand. 

At  least  it  made  me  want  to  say,  even  across  the  stormy  ocean, 
how  much  I  am  thinking  about  you,  and  how  sorry  I  am  that  you 
are  weak  and  ill,  and  how  glad  I  am  that  you  are  yourself,  full  of  the 
faith  and  strength  of  God,  which  no  feebleness  of  body  can  subdue. 

People  talk  about  how  sadness  and  happiness  pursue  and  give 
place  to  one  another  all  through  our  lives.    The  real  truth  which  we 


924  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

grow  to  see  clearly  is  that  they  exist  at  the  same  time,  and  do  not 
contradict  each  other.  They  really  minister  to  one  another.  Christ 
was  the  saddest  and  happiest  man  that  ever  lived.  And  so  I  am 
thanking  God  for  you  while  I  am  praying  for  you  with  all  my  heart. 

How  beautiful  the  death  at  Hazlemere  has  been !  I  owe  it  to 
you  that  I  ever  had  the  privilege  of  seeing  Tennyson.  For  that, 
as  for  a  thousand  other  goodnesses,  I  can  never  thank  you.  But 
it  will  be  a  treasure  to  me  all  my  life.  And  what  has  he  not 
been  to  all  of  us  who  began  to  hear  him  sing  when  we  were  boys ! 
And  what  must  life  mean  to  him  now  when  he  is  with  God! 

Albert  tells  me  that  you  have  not  forgotten  about  the  picture, 
and  that  he  wants  one  too.  Here  they  both  are,  and  I  wish  that 
he  would  send  me  his.  Yours  I  have  had  for  years  among  my 
treasures.      May  the  peace  of  God  be  with  you  always. 

Your  sincere  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  following  letter  was  written  by  Phillips  Brooks  after 
reading  a  statement  of  the  religious  belief  of  a  young  man 
wishing  to  enter  the  ministry,  and  desiring  to  know  whether 
in  the  bishop's  opinion  he  were  eligible  for  the  sacred  office. 
Without  the  original  document  the  reply  may  not  be  in  every 
respect  intelligible,  but  its  general  meaning  is  clear. 

233  Clakendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  November  10,  1892. 

My  dear  Mr.  C ,  I  have  read  your  friend's  paper  with 

much  interest.  It  is  very  strange  how  men's  thoughts  at  any 
one  time  run  in  the  same  direction,  are  perplexed  by  the  same 
difficulties,  and  tend  to  the  same  results. 

I  do  not  know  how  much  your  friend  has  read  of  certain  recent 
writings  which  discuss  the  relation  between  the  formal  and  essen- 
tial, the  historical  and  spiritual  in  the  Christian  faith.  But  evi- 
dently the  necessity  for  some  adjustment  and  proportion  between 
the  two  has  pressed  upon  his  mind  as  it  has  pressed  upon  so  many 
others.  The  unquestioning  acceptance  of  all  that  is  written  con- 
cerning the  historic  Christ  and  the  almost  exclusive  value  set 
upon  the  facts  of  His  earthly  life  have  given  way  to  a  larger  esti- 
mate of  what  He  eternally  is,  and  of  the  spiritual  meaning  which 
the  recorded  facts  enshrine. 

That  the  value  of  the  historic  fact  may  be  depreciated,  as  it 
has  in  some  other  days  been  exaggerated,  there  can  be  no  doubt ; 
but  that  the  disposition  which  your  friend  exhibits,  to  seek  and 
dwell  upon  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the  redeeming  life,  is  good 
and  true,  I  also  thoroughly  believe. 

As  to  his  right  to  be  a  Christian  minister  I  cannot  hesitate. 


^t.  55-56]  CORRESPONDENCE  925 

Our  Church  puts  into  the  hands  of  her  ministers  the  Apostles' 
and  the  Nicene  Creeds,  and  asks  them  to  repeat  these  symbols 
with  the  people.  Of  course  there  are  various  interpretations  of 
many  of  the  articles.  But  he  who  says  them  in  good  faith  as  an 
expression  of  his  own  religious  thinking  and  believing  has  an  un- 
questioned right  within  our  ministry.  Is  not  the  same  thing  true 
substantially  of  yours,  and  would  not  your  friend  thus  find  that 
he  really  belongs  where  he  very  much  wants  to  be  ? 

I  must  rejoice  with  him  and  for  him  in  the  spiritual  earnest- 
ness which  is  evidently  his.  That  is  the  great  thing  after  all. 
He  has  life,  which  is  what  Christ  came  that  we  might  have. 

Will  you  assure  him  of  my  heartiest  good  wishes  ? 
And  will  you  believe  me, 

Yours  most  sincerely,  Phillips  Brooks. 

He  preached  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  November  24,  at  Trin- 
ity Church.  His  text  was,  "  God  saw  everything  that  He 
had  made,  and,  behold,  it  was  very  good."  His  subject  was 
"  Optimism."  He  defined  it :  "  It  is  not  merely  a  matter  of 
temperament,  nor  does  it  mean  that  this  is  a  thoroughly  good 
world  in  which  we  live,  nor  is  it  simply  a  careless  passing 
over  of  the  evils  of  life,  nor  is  it  a  way  of  seeing  how  every- 
thing is  going  to  come  out  for  good.  But  it  is  a  great  belief 
in  a  great  purpose,  underlying  the  world  for  good,  abso- 
lutely certain  to  fulfil  itself  somewhere,  somehow.  That 
must  have  been  what  God  saw  when  He  looked  upon  the 
world  and  called  it  good." 

Our  optimism  is  no  silly  thing;  and  its  justification  is  by  its 
own  hope.  Oh,  my  friends,  never  be  ashamed,  in  your  college 
room  or  in  the  club,  of  optimism.  With  endless  difficulties 
around  us,  let  us  not  let  our  arms  drop  and  be  idle.  We  think 
that  this  end  of  the  century  is  leading  into  something  beyond. 
It  is  not  that  we  see  some  bright  light ;  but  there  is  something  in 
the  air  that  makes  us  hope.  Christ  made  the  world  better  for 
those  who  were  to  come  after  Him.  Let  us  go  our  way,  saying 
to  our  own  souls,   "Christ  has  overcome." 

To  Rev.  Lyman  Abbott :  — 

Boston,  November  25,  1892. 
Dear  Dr.  Abbott,  —  In  a  moment  of  what  I  fear  is  folly  I 
have  allowed  myself  to  accept  the  invitation  of  the  New  England 
Society  of  Brooklyn  to  speak  at  their  annual  dinner.    ...   I  have 


926  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

no  gift  for  such  occasions,  nor,  I  confess,  any  very  great  enjoyment 
of  them ;  certainly  not  of  such  a  part  as  I  have  now  promised  to 
take.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  my  address  will  he  one  of  many, 
and  that  it  need  not  be  considered  too  serious  an  affair. 

To  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell :  — 

233  Clarendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  December  10,  1892. 

Dear  Weir,  —  Yes,  the  verses  are  certainly  fine.  Some  of 
them  are  exquisite  and  delightful.  Of  course  they  are  fantastic 
and  unhealthy.  Everybody  is  that,  nowadays,  and  they  are 
affected,  and  haunted  always  by  recollections  of  somebody  else's 
poetry,  and  wilfully  and  unnecessarily  obscure,  and  awfully  afraid 
of  being  commonplace.  Some  time  somebody  will  just  dare  to 
sing  the  first  great  simple  things  as  all  the  great  poets  have  sung 
them,  and  then,  how  the  world  will  listen!  and  instead  of  a  few 
distorted  connoisseurs  of  poetry  like  you  and  me,  praising  it  to 
one  another,  all  men  will  be  delighting  in  it  as  they  delight  in 
nobody  to-day. 

But  no  matter  about  the  verses.  When  they  came  I  was  just 
going  to  write  you  about  "Characteristics,"  and  how  I  had  been 
keeping  company  with  you  in  it  during  two  or  three  happy  days. 
It  is  a  beautiful  book,  —  so  true,  and  wise,  and  human.  All  the 
world  which  reads  it  must  enjoy  it,  but  to  me  who  feel  and  hear 
you  in  it  everywhere,  it  is  very  precious.  You  must  be  very  glad 
to  have  written  it,  and  I  rejoice  with  you. 

There  was  your  pamphlet,  too,  about  precise  instruments,  for 
which  I  never  thanked  you.  But  I  read  it  all  the  same,  indeed 
I  did !  and  thought  it  all  the  more  wonderful  because  I  knew  so 
little  of  it  all. 

So  long  since  I  had  sight  of  you!  The  last  time  I  was  in 
Philadelphia  you  were  not  there.  And,  as  you  said,  so  many  of 
the  old  friends  have  gone!  Let  us  at  least  send  one  another 
greeting  when  we  may,  for  indeed  the  old  affection  does  not  die 
nor  change. 

It  was  good  to  see  Lanny  and  his  wife  last  summer.  They  are 
at  home  now,  I  suppose.  I  send  my  love  to  them,  and  to  Jack 
and  his  wife,  and  to  your  own  household.  And  I  need  not  tell 
you  how  deeply  and  truly 

I  am  always  yours,  P.  B. 

To  Rev.  "W.  N.  McVickar  he  wrote  :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  14,  1892. 
Yes,  my  dear  William,  I  am  fifty-seven,  and  you  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  your  kind  telegram  made  the  day  easier  to  hear. 


mt.  55-56]  CORRESPONDENCE  927 

I  celebrated  the  melancholy  occasion  by  burying  old  Mrs. 


who  died  last  Sunday  at  the  ripe  age  of  ninety-nine.  It  made 
one  feel  young  for  a  few  minutes.  But  one  cannot  keep  vener- 
able folk  of  that  kind  on  hand  indefinitely  to  freshen  his  fading 
consciousness  of  youth. 

Jimmy  and  Sallie  and  Margaret  came  up  from  Salem  and 
dined  with  me  at  William's,  which  gave  the  old  man  (that 's  me) 
pleasure,  and  on  the  whole  I  am  as  well  this  morning  as  could  be 
expected,  and  good  yet  for  a  score  of  happy  years. 

To  a  young  woman  who  was  carrying  a  heavy  burden  he 
wrote :  — 

233  Clabendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  December  16, 1892. 

My  dear  Miss ,  Indeed  I  would  send  you  a  letter  full  of 

courage  if  I  could. 

What  can  I  do  but  ask,  as  I  do  most  earnestly,  that  God  will 
make  you  brave  and  strong  and  happy  ?  I  think  that  He  is  mak- 
ing you  all  of  these. 

Life  is  not  easy  for  any  earnest  spirit;  but  true  life  is  possi- 
ble, and  that  is  all  we  ask. 

May  every  best  Christmas  blessing  come  to  you  abundantly. 
Your  sincere  friend,  Phillips  Brooks. 

To  Lady  Frances  Baillie :  — 

233  Clarendon  Stbeet,  Boston,  December  17,  1892. 

Dear  Lady  Frances,  — This  will  not  quite  reach  you  by 
Christmas  Day,  but  it  will  serve  to  tell  you  when  it  comes,  what 
I  hope  you  know  full  well  already,  that  I  am  thinking  of  you  as 
the  Christmas  days  draw  near,  and  wishing  you  every  best  and 
happiest  blessing.  I  wish  that  I  could  spend  my  Christmas  Day 
in  London,  and  come  and  sit  and  talk  with  you  a  little  some  time 
between  morning  and  night.  If  I  could  go  thither  in  a  day  you 
should  not  fail  to  see  me,  for  I  have  no  duties  here.  Nobody 
wants  a  bishop,  I  find,  on  Christmas  Day,  and  I  am  going  to 
New  York  to  spend  it  with  my  brother,  whom  you  know. 

I  am  thankful  to  hear  from  your  son  Albert  (whose  picture  I 
value  very  much  indeed)  that  you  are  stronger  and  better.  I 
cannot  learn  to  think  of  you  as  ill,  though  I  cannot  forget  the 
last  time  that  I  saw  you.  But  I  know  how  well  and  strong  your 
heart  is.  I  am  sure  that  if  I  could  come  to  your  door  and  have 
the  greeting  of  the  venerable  and  delightful  butler  (who  ought  to 
be  a  bishop,  he  looks  it  far  more  than  I  do)  and  pass  on  to  your 
chamber,  I  should  find  the  same  bright  welcome  and  the  same 
joyful  trust  in  God  and  love  for  man  that  have  always  made  my 


928  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1891-92 

coming  to  you  a  delight.     Therefore  I  dare  to  wish  you  a  happy 
Christmas,  and  a  bright  New  Year.      Why  should  I  not  ? 

How  sure  one  grows  of  a  few  things  as  he  grows  older,  —  of 
God  and  Christ  and  his  best  friends,  and  the  great  end  of  all  in 
good !  Everything  else  may  grow  uncertain,  but  these  things  are 
surer  every  day. 

"Tennyson's  Grave  "  has  not  come  yet,  but  I  thank  you  for  it 
beforehand,  and  shall  value  it  truly,  both  for  itself  and  for  your 
kindness.      How  great  and  dear  he  seems ! 

May  God  be  very  good  to  you,  dear  friend ;  may  every  day  be 
full  of  His  mercy. 

Yours  affectionately,  Phillips  Brooks. 

He  went,  on  the  21st  of  December,  to  the  dinner  of  the  New 
England  Society  in  Brooklyn,  and  made  a  speech,  character- 
istic of  him  in  every  respect,  noting  with  kindly  satire  their 
faults,  yet  praising  greatly  New  England  and  the  Puritans. 
He  stayed  with  his  brother  while  in  New  York,  and  in  a  let- 
ter describing  Christmas  Day  he  says :  "  We  played  childish 
games  till  midnight,  and  it  was  all  very  simple,  and  silly, 
and  delightful."  There  were  things  which  tried  him  greatly 
at  this  time,  but  he  dismissed  them  on  principle :  "  On 
Christmas  Day  one  must  be  glad. "  That  his  thoughts  were 
dwelling  on  Tennyson  is  evident  from  this  letter  to  Lady 
Frances  Baillie :  — 

233  Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  December  30, 1892. 

Dear  Lady  Frances,  —  The  etching  has  arrived,  after  what 
I  doubt  not  was  a  stormy  and  distressing  experience  on  the  Atlan- 
tic, for  it  seems  as  if  the  great  ocean  never  had  been  so  restless 
and  uneasy-minded  as  in  these  last  few  weeks.  But  it  has  come, 
and  brings  its  blessing  to  the  end  of  the  departing  year.  Surely 
the  most  touching  and  sacred  thing  to  many  of  us  during  the 
year  which  goes  out  to-morrow  will  be  that  it  opened  the  grave 
for  Tennyson,  and  one  of  the  first  thoughts  about  1893  as  we  bid 
it  welcome  will  be  that  in  it  we  shall  not  hear  his  voice. 

This  picture  of  his  grave  is  very  good  to  have,  especially  from 
your  kind  hands.  I  do  not  think  that  my  friends'  graves  mean 
very  much  to  me.  I  do  not  find  myself  often  going  to  them.  I 
should  not  mind  it  if  I  did  not  know  where  my  friend  was  buried, 
if  only  I  knew  that  no  dishonor  had  been  done  to  his  body.  Death 
is  so  great  and  splendid ;  the  wonderful  emancipation  which  must 
come  to  the  spirit  is  so  exacting  and  inspiring  that  it  carries  one's 


jet.  SSS61     THE  FUTURE  LIFE  929 

thoughts  away  from  the  hody  after  we  have  once  done  to  it  the 
affectionate  reverence  which  everything  which  has  belonged  to  our 
friend  suggests  to  us. 

It  is  only  when  a  life  has  been  monumental,  like  the  great 
Poet's,  and  his  memory  is  part  of  the  life  of  the  earth,  which  he 
has  richened,  that  his  grave  becomes  a  treasure  for  mankind.  I 
am  glad  his  body  lies  in  the  Abbey.  The  dear  old  place  seems 
even  dearer  from  this  new  association. 

And  every  token  of  your  kind  remembrance  is  very  precious  to 
me,  as  I  am  sure  you  know. 

And  when  you  turn  the  page  of  the  New  Year,  may  you  find 
some  message  of  strength  and  good  cheer  written  on  the  other 
side.  You  surely  will,  whether  it  be  of  sickness  or  of  health. 
How  one  grows  almost  afraid  to  choose,  or  at  least  thankful  that 
he  has  not  to  decide!  The  great  simple  truths,  that  God  lives, 
that  God  loves,  that  Christ  is  our  salvation,  grow  greater  and 
simpler  and  dearer  every  year.  May  they  flood  this  New  Year 
with  their  light  for  you. 

I  wish  that  I  could  see  you.  You  will  know,  I  am  sure,  that 
my  thought  and  prayer  are  with  you,  and  that  I  am  always, 

Yours  most  affectionately,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Among  the  last  things  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  in  his  note- 
book is  the  following  :  — 

THE    FUTURE    LIFE 

How  far  we  may  get  at  a  real  conception  of  its  essential  nature 
by  carefully  observing  the  most  spiritual  moments  of  this  life,  in 
such  particulars,  for  instance,  as  the  following :  — 

1.  Relation  to  the  bodily  life,  preserving  it,  but  keeping  it 
subordinate  and  servile. 

2.  Relation  to  our  friends,  getting  at  their  true  spiritual  es- 
sence, not  minding,  i.  e.,  keeping  in  mind,  their  circumstances, 
poverty,  wealth,  etc. 

3.  Relation  to  God  —  true  worship.  Communion  more  than 
petition. 

4.  Relation  to  time.  Essential  timelessness,  free  drawing 
upon  past  and  future. 

5.  Relation  to  ourselves.  Consciousness  of  our  deepest  ideal- 
ity. Fullest  companionship  with  others,  and  proportionately  deep 
sense  of  self. 

All  these  things  we  know  in  the  highest  moments  of  our  lives; 
shall  they  not,  clothed  in  fit  scenery,  make  our  Heaven  ? 
vol.  n 


1893 

CONCLUSION 

Watch  night  was  kept  as  usual  at  Trinity  Church. 
Among  the  clergy  in  the  chancel  was  the  new  rector  of 
Trinity,  Rev.  E.  W.  Donald.  The  sermon  was  given  by  Rev. 
Percy  Browne.  After  the  hymn,  "  How  firm  a  foundation, 
ye  saints  of  the  Lord,"  Bishop  Brooks  remarked  that  only 
a  few  moments  of  the  old  year  remained,  and  asked  the 
congregation  to  kneel  in  silent  prayer  as  the  knell  of  the 
dying  year  was  tolled. 

Amid  a  silence  so  profound  that  it  could  almost  be  felt,  the 
great  audience  knelt  and  waited  in  silence  and  prayer  the  striking 
of  the  twelve  strokes  which  told  the  death  of  the  old  and  the 
birth  of  the  new  year. 

A  fervent  prayer  by  Bishop  Brooks  followed,  full  of  thankful- 
ness for  past  mercies  and  of  joy  in  the  hope  and  promise  of  the 
blessings  to  come.  Then  rising  and  addressing  the  great  congre- 
gation, he  added,  "I  wish  you  all  a  happy,  a  very  happy  new 
year. " 

A  lady  who  called  upon  him  in  his  study  during  the  day 
found  him  in  depression,  but  rousing  himself,  he  said,  "  It 
must  be,  it  shall  be,  a  happy  new  year."  On  the  Sunday 
morning  with  which  the  new  year  opened  he  was  at  the  Old 
North  Church  on  Salem  Street.  He  ate  his  New  Year's 
dinner  with  the  members  of  the  Christian  Union,  as  had  been 
his  custom  for  twenty  years,  and  spoke  to  the  young  men  as  he 
had  spoken  during  all  those  years.  It  was  an  organization  that 
he  carried  close  to  his  heart.  On  its  president,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Baldwin,  he  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  depending  to  assist 
him  in  the  responsibility  for  the  many  young  men  recom- 
mended to  his  care.  These  were  the  words  he  spoke,  as  they 
were  reported  in  the  Boston  "  Herald :  "  — 

New  Year  comes  to  us  with  the  presentation  of  the  great  things 


jet.  57]  THE   LAST   DAYS  931 

of  life.  Greatness  and  littleness  are  terms  not  of  the  quantity, 
but  of  the  quality,  of  human  life.  If  a  man  has  a  great  concep- 
tion of  life,  and  is  putting  all  of  the  little  things  which  he  is 
doing  into  that  conception,  he  is  a  great  man.  There  always  is 
some  great  conception  which  makes  for  a  man  the  interpretation 
of  his  life. 

Everything  craves  for  manifestation.  I  believe  that  when 
Jesus  Christ  came  and  touched  the  earth  that  the  earth  had  some 
response  to  make,  which  it  does  not  make  to  you  and  me.  Even 
now,  Nature  is  saying  something  which  she  did  not  say  to  men 
that  groped  about  five  centuries  ago.  She  says  it  in  the  lights 
which  burn  in  our  hall  and  in  the  cars  that  run  by  the  door. 

The  biggest  truth  that  man  knows  is  the  most  practical  truth. 
Mankind  only  progresses  as  it  progresses  with  the  development  of 
man's  own  personal  character.  Increased  skill  will  come  with 
increased  goodness.  Man  is  what  man  expects  himself  to  be. 
Look  at  yourself  and  say,  "Am  I  a  child  of  God?  "  Do  that 
under  any  circumstances,  and  the  circumstances  immediately  be- 
come sublime. 

Character,  and  character  only,  is  the  thing  that  is  eternally 
powerful  in  this  world.  Character  is  the  divinest  thing  on  earth. 
It  is  the  one  thing  that  you  can  put  into  the  shop  or  into  the 
study  and  be  sure  that  the  fire  is  going  to  burn.  Character  now, 
and  character  forever ! 

On  Monday  evening,  January  2,  he  was  at  the  Clericus 
Club  for  the  last  time.  He  began  the  next  day  the  visitation 
of  the  churches  in  accordance  with  a  list  made  out  for  six 
months  in  advance.  Tuesday,  January  3,  he  was  at  Wake- 
field ;  Wednesday,  January  4,  at  Middleborough  ;  Thursday, 
January  5,  at  Framingham;  Friday,  January  6,  at  Water- 
town  ;  Sunday,  January  8,  he  visited  the  three  churches  in 
Dorchester ;  Tuesday,  January  10,  he  was  at  Belmont ; 
Thursday,  January  12,  at  Wellesley ;  Friday,  January  13,  at 
Canton.  Many  minor  appointments,  committee  meetings, 
etc.,  filled  up  the  intervening  spaces  of  time.  One  of  his 
evenings,  January  4,  he  had  given  up  to  a  student  from  Yale 
University,  whom  he  had  invited  to  spend  the  night.  They 
talked  on  the  ministry,  on  Robertson,  Maurice,  Stanley,  and 
Tennyson,  on  the  Incarnation  and  the  Atonement.  In  the 
morning,  after  breakfast,  as  he  was  bidding  his  young  friend 


932  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

good-by,  he  spoke  on  the  subject  that  seemed  to  haunt  his 
mind  as  if  with  a  mystic  prevision :  — 

These  are  great  days  you  are  entering  upon ;  days  which  will 
witness  great  changes  in  all  things.  They  will  be  better  days 
than  any  yet  seen.  Life  will  have  fuller  and  richer  meaning  to 
the  coming  generation  than  it  has  ever  had  before,  greater  works 
will  be  done.1 

And  another  event  there  was  that  gave  him  a  new  pleasure, 
into  which  he  entered  with  the  zest  of  youthful  happiness,  — 
a  reception  at  his  residence  on  January  11,  in  honor  of  Miss 
Gertrude  Brooks,  when  for  the  first  time  he  threw  open  his 
house.  It  had  been  a  promise  made  long  before  that  such  a 
reception  should  be  given  when  the  time  came.  He  shared 
in  the  anticipation  of  the  event  and  still  more  in  its  fulfil- 
ment; and  as  he  stood  by  the  side  of  his  niece  to  receive 
the  guests,  with  the  sense  of  joy  in  kinship  and  proprietor- 
ship in  her  gladness,  he  seemed  to  be  in  the  happiest,  even 
the  gayest  of  moods. 

On  Saturday  morning,  January  14,  he  preached  at  the  con- 
secration of  St.  Mary's  Church  for  Sailors,  East  Boston.  A 
window  was  open  in  the  roof,  which  could  not  be  shut,  and 
the  cold  winter  air  blew  in  on  the  heads  of  those  present. 
Coming  back  on  the  ferry,  he  complained  of  feeling  cold. 

On  Sunday  he  should  have  kept  at  home,  for  he  was  ill ; 
but  he  went  to  Hyde  Park,  officiating  there  in  the  morning, 
and  then  in  an  open  sleigh  he  drove  to  Dedham.  A  lady 
who  was  present  has  furnished  this  account  of  the  morning  of 
that  day :  — 

The  little  church  in  Hyde  Park  was  crowded  with  people.  It 
seems  so  significant  that  his  text  was  "  Life !  "  "  Thou  shalt 
satisfy  the  king  with  long  life."  "Life  forever  and  ever;  "  over 
and  over  again  that  was  the  burden  of  it.  And  he  read  those 
words  from  "  Saul, "  — 

How  good  is  man's  lif  e !     The  mere  living 

How  fit  to  employ 
All  the  heart  and  the  soul  and  the  senses 

Forever  in  joy ! 

1  Cf .  "  A  Visit  with  Phillips  Brooks,"  by  F.  H.  Lynch,  in  The  Christian 
Union,  February  11, 1893. 


jet.  57]  THE  LAST  DAYS  933 

And  even  as  he  spoke,  with  Life  upon  his  lips,  I  saw  written 
plainly  upon  his  face  that  other  word,  Death.  I  grew  nuinh  and 
faint,  and  thought  that  I  would  have  to  leave  the  church. 

After  the  confirmation  he  stayed  and  stayed.  I  have  never 
seen  him  happier  or  gentler,  never  more  childlike  and  lovahle 
than  he  was  that  Sunday  morning.  He  addressed  the  Sunday- 
school.  When  that  was  done  he  went  about  among  the  children. 
Women  brought  him  their  babies  and  their  boys  that  he  might 
look  into  their  faces.  He  had  a  word  for  every  one.  When  he 
sat  down,  a  group  of  boys  circled  around  him.  One  boy  back  of 
him  noticed  a  speck  upon  his  coat  and  went  to  brush  it  off.  In 
a  moment  there  were  three  boys  brushing  him  all  together.  He 
looked  about  and  colored,  his  modesty  overcome  at  being  the 
object  of  so  much  attention.  .  .  .  He  continued  to  talk  with  the 
children.  It  seemed  even  then  that  he  was  already  entering 
God's  kingdom  as  a  little  child. 

And  still  he  did  not  go.  He  did  not  seem  to  want  to  go. 
Long  after  he  had  gone  I  stood  in  the  church.  Only  a  few  were 
left.  An  old  woman  came  to  me  and  began  talking.  I  had 
never  seen  her  before,  but  she  seemed  to  know  me  somehow,  and 
began  to  talk  about  him.  She  remembered  him  as  a  boy,  and 
began  to  tell  about  the  old  days  at  St.  Paul's  when  the  Brooks 
boys,  as  she  said,  used  to  spill  over  into  another  pew.  I  let  her 
talk  on  and  on.  In  the  middle  of  it  I  looked  up,  —  and  there 
he  was !  Back  again !  I  wondered  what  brought  him.  I  was 
startled  and  could  not  speak.  He  looked  at  us  a  second  and 
then  he  said,  "  Good-by, "  and  the  smile  that  grew  upon  his  face, 
the  bright  look  in  the  eyes,  I  shall  never  forget.  I  did  not  say 
good-by,  —  I  could  not.  He  looked  so  happy  that  I  was  glad  too, 
and  yet  there  was  a  sadness  mingled  with  it  deeper  than  words 
could  say. 

On  Monday  morning,  January  16,  a  friend  who  called,  not 
expecting  to  find  him  at  leisure,  was  painfully  struck  with 
the  alteration  in  his  looks.  He  came  forth  as  usual  from  his 
study  with  his  arms  extended  in  greeting  in  the  old  familiar 
way,  but  he  was  changed.  During  the  hour  which  followed 
he  was  restless  and  nervous  in  his  manner,  walking  the  room, 
talking  incessantly ;  it  was  hardly  possible,  so  rapid  and  con- 
tinuous was  the  talk,  to  put  him  a  question  without  inter- 
rupting him.  When  he  was  asked  if  he  found  any  difficulty 
in  conversation  in  making  his  episcopal  visits,  he  said,  "  Oh 


934  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

no ;  you  only  pull  the  spigot,  and  it  comes."  He  was  full  of 
reminiscences ;  referring  to  his  early  years  and  the  absurd 
way  he  then  had  of  selecting  texts  which  no  one  had  heard  of. 
He  spoke  of  one  sermon  which  he  got  by  asking  a  clerical 
brother  what  text  he  was  going  to  preach  on.  The  text  was 
so  striking  that  only  one  sermon  could  be  preached  from  it, 
and  as  he  wrote  on  the  text  at  once,  he  made  it  impossible 
for  the  original  suggester  to  use  it.  He  talked  of  Watson's 
Poems  then  just  out,  which  he  greatly  admired,  especially  the 
lines  on  Tennyson.  Then  he  turned  to  the  New  England 
dinner,  commenting  on  the  difference  between  New  York  and 
Boston,  how  the  exaggerated  estimate  of  money  was  affecting 
even  the  clergy  in  New  York.  This  incident  he  told  of  the 
New  England  dinner:  A  gentleman  who  sat  beside  him 
complained  that  he  could  not  enjoy  the  dinner  because  of  the 
speech  he  had  to  make.  "  That,"  said  Phillips  Brooks,  "  is 
also  my  trouble."  "  Why,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  did  not 
suppose  you  ever  gave  a  thought  to  any  speech  you  had  to 
make."  "  And  is  that  your  impression  of  the  way  in  which  I 
have  done  all  my  work  ?  "  "  It  is,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "  I 
have  thought  it  was  all  spontaneous,  costing  you  no  effort  of 
preparation."  This  was  one  of  the  last  interviews,  and  it 
closed  with  his  agreement  to  preach  the  sermon  at  West 
Point  at  the  Commencement  in  the  ensuing  June. 

The  following  narrative  by  Mr.  William  G.  Brooks  takes 
up  the  story  and  carries  it  to  the  end  :  — 

On  Tuesday,  January  17,  1893,  in  the  evening,  Bishop  Brooks 
made  a  visitation  to  the  Church  of  the  Good  Shepherd  in  Boston, 
—  his  last  visitation.  I  saw  the  notice  in  the  evening  paper, 
and  went  to  hear  him.  He  had  a  written  sermon  ready,  but  the 
pulpit  desk  was  low  and  his  glasses  troubled  him,  and  he  laid  it 
aside  and  preached  an  extemporaneous  sermon  on  Christ  feeding 
the  multitude  in  the  desert.  He  had  a  severe  cold  and  was 
troubled  with  his  throat.  I  went  home  with  him,  and  sat  and 
talked  till  eleven  o'clock.  He  was  in  good  spirits  and  bright 
and  interesting,  and  spoke  lightly  of  the  soreness  in  his  throat. 
When  I  bade  him  good-night  he  said  he  would  come  in  and  spend 
an  evening  with  us  soon. 

The  next  day,  Wednesday,  January  18,  he  walked  out,  and  in 


mt.  57]  THE  LAST   DAYS  935 

the  evening  went  to  Newton  to  a  choir  festival  and  a  dinner  at 
the  Woodland  Park  Hotel.  There  he  made  his  last  speech,  with 
great  difficulty,  as  Dr.  Shinn  tells  me,  on  account  of  his  throat. 
He  was  driven  in  a  close  carriage  to  the  station  in  Newton,  and 
also  from  the  Huntington  Avenue  station  in  Boston  to  his  home. 
During  the  night  his  throat  grew  worse,  and  in  the  morning  was 
very  much  swollen.  He  sent  for  Dr.  Beach,  who  told  him  he 
must  keep  his  bed  to  prevent  more  cold  and  avoid  a  chill,  but 
that  he  had  only  an  "old-fashioned  sore  throat." 

I  saw  him  in  the  evening.  Dr.  Beach  was  there,  who  stated 
the  case  the  same  as  he  did  in  the  morning.  He  gave  him  a 
gargle  and  a  Dover's  powder  to  sleep  on.  But  he  had  a  poor 
night,  and  was  very  restless  in  the  morning.  I  saw  him  in  the 
morning,  afternoon,  and  evening.  This  I  did  each  of  the  days  he 
was  sick,  and  Mrs.  Brooks  and  Gertrude  saw  him  each  forenoon. 
Dr.  Beach  each  day  told  me  of  his  condition,  and  constantly 
spoke  favorably  and  hopefully  of  it.  He  objected  to  a  nurse, 
though  the  doctor  suggested  it,  and  as  Katie  and  the  other  ser- 
vants knew  his  wishes  and  could  prepare  what  he  needed,  there 
seemed  to  be  no  occasion  for  one. 

His  throat  was  so  swollen  that  he  could  say  but  little,  and 
could  take  only  liquid  food.  He  read  his  letters  and  papers  and 
dictated  some  of  his  correspondence. 

So  it  went  on  till  Sunday,  when  he  did  not  appear  so  well. 
He  seemed  to  be  weaker  and  slept  more.  Still  Dr.  Beach  said 
there  was  no  cause  for  alarm.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening 
he  saw  him  and  sent  me  word  that  he  looked  for  a  good  night, 
and  he  hoped  to  find  him  better  in  the  morning.  So  we  went  to 
bed  feeling  easy  and  hoping  for  good  results. 

But  about  one  o'clock  one  of  the  servants  came  to  our  house  and 
said  he  was  not  so  well.  It  appears  that  he  woke  from  a  light 
sleep  about  eleven  o'clock,  a  little  weak  in  his  head,  and  went  out 
of  his  room  and  up  the  stairs  a  few  steps,  when  the  servants  heard 
him  and  gently  took  him  to  his  room  and  bed  again.  He  seemed 
to  imagine  he  was  in  a  strange  house,  perhaps  on  an  episcopal 
visitation,  and  said  he  was  "going  home." 

Dr.  Beach  was  sent  for  and  came  at  once.  He  sent  for  me 
and  also  for  Dr.  Fitz.  I  was  at  the  house  before  Dr.  Fitz,  and 
Dr.  Beach  sent  me  at  once  to  the  Registry  of  Nurses  for  a  nurse. 
I  got  a  man  who  was  there  in  an  hour  or  so,  and  on  my  return  I 
found  Dr.  Fitz  at  the  house. 

The  doctors  had  just  examined  his  lungs.  They  found  them 
sound  and  said  they  found  nothing  that  was  dangerous.  It  seems 
they  suspected  there  might  be  a  diphtheritic  trouble  below  the 


936  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

throat  swelling,  and  had  arranged  to  make  an  examination  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  possibly  Dr.  Knight  also  present. 

While  the  doctors  were  consulting  together  after  their  exami- 
nation in  the  hall  in  the  second  story,  I  was  alone  with  Phillips. 
He  knew  me.  He  looked  up  from  his  pillow  with  the  sweetest 
smile  and  held  out  his  hand.  He  pressed  mine  warmly  and 
strongly.  Smiled  again  and  again,  and  once  or  twice  said, 
"Good-night."  Then  he  lay  back  on  the  pillow,  put  his  great 
left  hand  on  his  heart,  and  smiled  and  nodded  his  head  with  his 
eyes  full  on  mine.  Then  he  raised  his  right  hand  with  the  fore- 
finger extended,  and  waved  it  round  and  round  for  several  mo- 
ments, as  he  used  to  do  when  hearing  music,  or  humming  some 
tune  himself.  It  was  all  clear  and  bright  and  happy.  Full  of  the 
joy  that  was  in  his  heart,  —  in  harmony  with  the  love  that  filled 
it,  and  with  the  heavenly  melodies  that  he  heard  calling  him  to  his 
eternal  home,  full  of  rest  and  life.     This  was  about  three  o'clock. 

These  were  his  last  clear  moments.  After  it  he  slept  lightly, 
taking  nourishment  from  time  to  time,  and  restless  and  uncom- 
fortable when  awake. 

About  six  o'clock  he  rose  and  insisted  on  getting  out  of  bed, 
and  as  he  was  very  decided,  Dr.  Beach  said,  as  the  room  was 
warm,  he  might  be  wrapped  in  blankets  and  sit  in  a  chair  a  little 
while.  The  doctor  and  the  nurse  covered  him,  and  he  stepped 
between  them  towards  the  door  that  opened  into  the  hall  as  if  he 
wished  to  go  out  of  the  room.  Dr.  Beach  restrained  him,  saying 
a  few  words,  when  he  said  quite  impatiently,  "Both  you  men 
cannot  keep  me  from  going  through  that  door."  His  attention 
was,  however,  diverted,  and  he  was  led  to  a  large  rocking-chair 
in  the  room,  into  which  he  was  seated,  the  nurse  in  a  chair  by 
his  side,  and  Dr.  Beach  and  I  in  chairs  near  by. 

In  a  few  moments  the  nurse  called  Dr.  Beach,  who  went  at 
once.  His  head  had  drooped,  and  he  was  breathing  hard.  "We 
lifted  him  upon  the  bed.  He  still  breathed,  and  Dr.  Beach  at 
once  injected  a  strong  dose  of  brandy  into  his  arm.  But  it  had 
no  effect,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes  the  breathing  grew  fainter 
and  then  stopped.     He  had  gone. 

The  physician  who  attended  Phillips  Brooks  furnishes  the 
following  statement :  — 

The  Bishop  for  several  days  had  been  suffering  from  a  severe 
sore  throat,  which  gave  rise  to  no  serious  or  alarming  symptoms 
until  late  in  the  night  before  his  death,  when  they  assumed  a 
diphtheritic  character.  He  then  became  delirious,  his  breathing 
rapidly  increased  in  frequency,  and  early  in  the  morning  of  Mon- 


Phillips  Brooks 


iET.  57]  THE   LAST   DAYS  937 

day,  January  23,  he  was  seized  with  a  slight  spasm,  soon  after 
which  his  heart  suddenly  ceased  to  beat.  His  throat  was  at  no 
time  seriously  obstructed,  nor  was  any  membrane  visible. 

These  accounts  may  be  supplemented  from  a  few  other 
sources.  To  Mr.  Deland,  who  called  upon  him  early  in  his 
illness,  he  talked  much  about  death,  the  awfulness  of  the 
mystery,  what  the  mystery  was,  how  certain  persons  whom  he 
mentioned,  recently  departed,  had  solved  it.  He  complained 
also  of  his  loneliness,  and  besought  Mr.  Deland  as  he  rose  to 
go,  to  remain. 

The  Rev.  James  P.  Franks  called  at  noon  on  Thursday, 
January  19.  While  he  was  there  the  bishop  sent  for  his 
secretary  and  requested  him  to  write  to  the  clergy  in  Lowell, 
where  he  had  appointments  for  the  following  Sunday,  to  say 
he  would  not  be  able  to  keep  them.  He  said  to  Franks, 
"  This  is  no  great  fun ;  my  throat  is  awfully  sore." 

The  Rev.  Leighton  Parks,  who  called  on  Saturday,  January 
21,  gives  this  account  of  a  last  interview :  — 

It  was  only  on  the  Saturday,  two  days  before  bis  death,  that 
I  heard  that  Brooks  was  sick.  And  even  then  the  report  was 
only  that  he  had  a  bad  throat;  so  that  I  was  not  alarmed,  and 
hesitated  a  moment  whether  to  call  before  lunch  or  wait  till  the 
afternoon  to  sit  and  have  a  long  chat.  Fortunately  I  decided  to 
go  at  once  and  learn  how  he  was.  When  I  reached  his  house 
the  door  was  opened  by  Katie,  who  said,  "He  's  been  asking  for 
you.  The  doctor  says  no  one  is  to  see  him,  but  you  must  go  up, 
for  he  said  so."  "But  is  he  really  ill?"  I  asked.  "Oh  yes, 
sir,  very  ill;  but  the  doctor  has  just  been  here  and  he  says  he  's 
better,  and  that  he  thinks  he  will  get  well."  Still  I  could  not 
feel  alarmed.  It  could  not  be  that  Brooks  was  to  die !  When 
I  entered  the  bedroom,  which  was  over'  the  study  and  the  same 
size,  I  saw  Brooks  in  bed  propped  up  with  pillows,  his  cheeks 
flushed  with  fever,  indeed,  but  with  no  sign  of  disease;  he  looked 
much  as  a  child  does  that  has  a  cold.  There  was  no  wasting  and 
no  evidence  of  weakness,  only  the  voice  was  husky  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  spoke  with  difficulty. 

"My  dear  Brooks,"  I  said,  "it  does  not  seem  natural  to  see 
you  here."  "Oh,  Parks,  I  am  so  glad  you  've  come!  I  wanted 
to  see  you."  I  told  him  how  that  I  had  only  that  moment  heard 
of  his  sickness,   and  begged  him  to  tell  me  just  how  he  was. 


93 8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

Then  he  looked  at  me  with  a  half-startled,  half-questioning  look 
in  his  eyes,  and  said,  "I  think  I  am  going  to  die."  "Oh  no," 
I  cried,  "you  must  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  The  doctor  says 
you  are  better,  and  in  a  few  days  you  will  be  up."  "But,"  he 
said,  and  this  was  almost  like  a  child  that  did  not  know  how  to 
measure  pain,  "you  don't  know  how  my  throat  hurts.  I  can't 
eat.  I  tried  to  eat  an  egg,  and  the  old  thing  was  as  hot  as  fire; 
and  if  I  can't  eat  I  must  die."  As  this  last  was  said  half  laugh- 
ingly, I  laughed  and  said,  "Now,  you  must  not  talk,  but  I  will 
stay  a  moment  and  tell  you  the  news."  So  I  sat  down  and 
looked  at  him.  The  great  bed  was  covered  over  with  books,  — 
books  new  and  old.  I  picked  up  one  and  glanced  at  the  title. 
I  do  not  know  what  it  was.  The  pathos  of  it  all  swept  over  me. 
The  whole  city  ready  to  serve  him,  a  host  of  friends  longing  to 
be  with  him,  and  he  was  alone,  and  had  turned  at  the  last,  as 
he  had  done  through  all  the  lonely  years,  to  books,  his  best 
friends.  They  covered  him  like  leaves.  The  book  I  picked  up 
was,  I  am  sure,  a  volume  of  poems,  —  a  new  book,  but,  as  I  said, 
I  cannot  recall  the  name.  There  were  letters  on  the  bed,  and  he 
read  me  one  of  them,  and  laughed  in  an  impatient  way  he  had, 
and  said,  "Isn't  he  preposterous."  Then  he  groaned  as  he 
thought  of  the  engagements  broken,  and  of  the  disappointment  of 
a  clergyman  in  whose  church  he  was  to  have  confirmed  the  next 
day.  Then  I  told  him  that  he  must  not  have  his  letters  brought 
to  him,  but  let  everything  wait  till  he  could  get  out,  and  "Then," 
said  I,  "you  had  better  get  on  a  steamer  and  go  abroad  for  a 
while."  Then  he  said,  half  seriously  and  half  laughingly,  "I 
came  near  doing  a  dreadful  thing  the  other  day.  I  was  in  East 
Boston,  and  I  suddenly  felt  as  if  I  must  get  away  from  every- 
thing for  a  little  while,  and  I  went  to  the  Cunard  dock  and  asked 
if  the  steamer  had  sailed.  She  had  been  gone  about  an  hour.  I 
believe  if  she  had  still  been  there  I  should  have  absconded." 

At  this  I  said  I  must  go,  for  it  was  not  good  that  he  should 
talk  so  much,  but  he ,  took  my  hand  and  said  most  pitiably, 
"Don't  go,  Parks,  don't  go.  I  won't  talk,  and  you  could  talk 
to  me  so  beautifully."  I  stayed  a  little  longer,  and  I  took  his 
hand  in  both  of  mine  and  said,  "Brooks,  you  know  what  you  are 
to  us,  — more  than  we  can  tell.  We  never  needed  you  more 
than  we  need  you  now.  I  believe  that  you  will  get  well,  but  you 
must  make  an  effort.  Try  to  eat,  no  matter  how  much  it  hurts. 
For  our  sakes  try  to  get  well. "  He  smiled  and  pressed  my  hand 
and  said,  "I'll  try."  I  told  him  I  would  come  again  in  the 
morning.  So  we  parted.  As  I  reached  the  door  he  called  after 
me,  "Give  my  love  to  Ellen."     This  had  been  his  farewell  for 


jet.  57]  THE  FUNERAL  939 

many  years,  ever  since  my  daughter,  then  about  two  years  old, 
frightened  at  his  great  size,  said,  "I  don't  like  you."  At  which 
he  was  charmed,  and  said,  "O  Ellen,  many  feel  as  you  do,  but 
don't  say  it ;  "  and  after  that  he  always  left  me  with  the  farewell, 
"Give  my  love  to  Ellen."  Ellen,  he  once  explained,  being  used 
generically  for  the  three  children. 

So  we  parted,  after  a  friendship  of  fifteen  years,  —  friendship 
made  possible  only  because  of  his  deep  sense  of  the  value  of  the 
individual  soul,  which  made  him  very  careful  not  to  dominate  a 
younger  and  less  gifted  life.  As  I  look  back  over  the  delightful 
years  of  communion  with  him,  nothing  seems  to  me  more  striking 
than  the  unity  of  his  character.  He  died  just  as  he  had  lived, 
—  the  keen  sense  of  humor,  the  scorn  of  pretentiousness,  the  love 
of  literature,  the  ignorance  of  pain,  the  shrinking  from  death, 
the  love  of  life,  the  humility  that  counted  others  better  than  him- 
self, the  loving  heart  that  loved  to  the  end.  All  these  were 
shown  in  the  long  years  I  had  known  him ;  they  were  shown  in 
that  last  half  hour  when  we  talked  together.  He  died  as  simply, 
as  naturally,  as  lovingly,  as  he  had  lived.  It  is  that  same  man 
whom  we  hope  to  see. 

The  following  account  of  Phillips  Brooks's  last  night  on 
earth  gives  the  scene  as  it  appeared  to  his  faithful  ser- 
vant :  — 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Bishop  Brooks  died  [says 
Rev.  Percy  Browne],  I  went  to  his  house  and  was  received  by 
the  faithful  servant  who,  for  so  many  years,  had  opened  to  me 
the  hospitable  door.  She  led  me  to  the  familiar  study,  darkened 
now  by  the  absence  of  the  welcoming  smile  and  outstretched 
hands,  which  used  to  draw  his  friends  to  his  very  heart.  Every- 
thing else  was  as  it  used  to  be,  —  the  books  he  had  been  reading 
lying  open  here  and  there,  the  study  table  covered  with  the  let- 
ters which  he  was  never  to  answer,  the  works  of  art  and  other 
things  of  beauty  which  he  had  gathered  in  his  travels,  —  all  as 
usual,  like  a  familiar  landscape  under  a  darkened  sky.  "Tell 
me  about  him  as  he  was  last  night,  Katie,"  I  said.  She  an- 
swered in  tones  broken  by  her  honest  sorrow.  "Last  night  Mr. 
William  and  the  doctor  came,  and  the  doctor  said  Mr.  Brooks 
would  be  better  in  the  morning ;  but  by  the  looks  of  him  I  thought 
he  wouldn't.  After  they  left  him,  I  went  to  his  room  at  about 
eleven  o'clock,  to  see  if  he  wanted  anything.  He  told  me  to 
leave  some  lemonade  near  him  and  go  to  bed.  I  told  him  I 
meant  to  sit  up.  He  looked  at  his  watch  on  the  table  by  his  bed 
and  said,   '  No,  Katie,   I  won't  need  you.     It 's  late,   and  you 


940  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

must  go  to  bed.'  But  it  wasn't  to  bed  I  was  going,  and  he 
looking  like  that.  So  I  sat  in  a  chair  outside  his  door.  Some 
time  after  I  heard  him  walking  about  and  talking  to  himself.  I 
opened  the  door,  and  there  he  was,  walking  about  in  his  room 
and  saying  over  and  over,  *  Take  me  home,  I  must  go  home!  ' 
I  was  that  frightened  that  I  sent  a  messenger  for  Mr.  William. 
In  a  little  while  he  came  with  the  doctor  and  a  nurse,  and  they 
stayed  with  him  till  he  died  in  the  morning." 

The  funeral  services  for  Phillips  Brooks  were  held  at 
Trinity  Church  on  Thursday,  January  26.  At  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  that  day  the  body,  accompanied  by  a  guard 
of  members  of  the  Loyal  Legion,  was  borne  to  the  church 
and  placed  in  the  vestibule,  where  it  was  viewed  by  a  contin- 
uous procession  of  all  classes  of  people,  numbering  many 
thousands,  and  there  were  thousands  still  waiting  for  the 
privilege  when  the  hour  of  service,  eleven  o'clock,  arrived.  In 
the  city  were  the  evidences  of  mourning.  The  traffic  seemed 
to  cease  in  the  streets,  the  Stock  Exchange  and  places  of 
business  were  closed,  the  flags  were  at  half-mast.  Within 
the  church  the  scene  resembled  the  day  of  his  consecration 
to  the  episcopate.  The  services  were  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  A.  J.  C.  Sowdon.  The  governor  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts,  the  mayor  of  the  city  of  Boston,  and  a  dele- 
gation from  the  legislature,  were  there;  representatives  of 
many  societies  also,  and  of  the  congregation  of  Trinity 
Church.  There  were  present  many  clergymen  of  other 
denominations.  The  white-robed  procession  of  the  clergy  of 
the  diocese  and  of  visiting  clergy  in  large  numbers  met  the 
body  at  the  great  west  door  of  the  church  and  passed  up  the 
aisle.  The  presiding  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  Dr. 
Williams,  who  read  the  sentences,  was  followed  by  Bishop 
Clark  and  Bishop  Potter,  Bishop  Kandolph,  of  Western 
Virginia,  Bishops  Niles,  Neely,  and  Talbot.  At  the  sugges- 
tion of  Rev.  William  Lawrence,  eight  young  men,  under- 
graduates of  Harvard,  bore  the  body  aloft  on  their  shoulders, 
as  if  in  triumph,  and  in  the  full  view  of  all.  The  honorary 
pall-bearers,  among  them  the  friends  of  many  years,  were 
Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  Rev.  C.  A.  L.  Richards,  Mr.  Robert 


jet.  57]  THE   TRIBUTES  941 

C.  Winthrop,  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  Rev.  Percy  Browne, 
Rev.  W.  N.  McVickar,  Rev.  Leighton  Parks,  Professor 
A.  V.  G.  Allen,  Colonel  Charles  R.  Codman,  Mr.  C.  J.  Mor- 
rill, President  Eliot,  of  Harvard,  Justice  Horace  Gray,  of 
the  United  States  Supreme  Court.  Bishop  Potter  stood  at 
the  lecturn  to  read  the  lesson.  Bishop  Clark  led  in  the 
recital  of  the  Nicene  Creed.  The  hymns  were  announced  by 
Rev.  E.  W.  Donald,  "Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul"  and  "For  all 
the  saints  who  from  their  labors  rest." 

When  the  service  was  over  within  the  church,  another 
service  was  held  without,  for  the  larger  congregation  waiting 
in  Copley  Square,  —  some  said  ten  thousand,  others  twenty 
thousand,  but  no  one  knew,  —  a  vast  concourse  of  people 
under  the  open  heaven.  The  body  was  borne  from  the 
church  as  it  had  been  carried  in,  on  the  shoulders  of  Harvard 
students,  placed  upon  a  catafalque  in  sight  of  the  multitude, 
when  prayers  were  said  and  the  hymn  was  sung,  "  O  God, 
our  help  in  ages  past."  Then  the  long  procession  moved, 
and  when  it  reached  Harvard  Square  at  two  o'clock,  the 
familiar  college  bell  began  to  toll,  announcing  that  the  pro- 
cession was  entering  the  college  grounds.  "In  a  marvellously 
short  time  the  steps  of  University  and  Harvard  halls  were 
crowded,  men  poured  from  the  domitories  and  recitation  halls 
in  the  quadrangle,  and  lined  up  two  or  three  deep  on  both 
sides  of  the  driveway  from  University  to  the  entrance  gate 
between  Harvard  and  Massachusetts.  There,  with  bared 
heads,  they  stood  in  silence  while  the  carriages  passed  one  by 
one  out  of  the  yard."  Then  they  disappeared  as  silently  and 
as  quickly  as  they  had  gathered,  while  the  procession  moved 
on  to  Mount  Auburn  to  meet  another  large  assemblage  of 
people  about  the  open  grave.  Here  the  committal  was  said 
by  Rev.  John  C.  Brooks,  and  the  prayers  by  Rev.  Arthur 
Brooks,  who  gave  the  benediction.  So  the  body  of  Phillips 
Brooks  was  laid  to  rest,  in  the  same  lot  with  the  father  and 
mother  and  the  two  brothers,  George  and  Frederick.  And 
the  people  went  away  again  to  their  own  homes. 

These  were  among  the  tributes  to  Phillips  Brooks.  First 
the  funeral,  with  its  demonstration  of  a  people's  grief.     "In 


942  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

my  long  life,"  said  Dr.  A.  P.  Peabody,  of  Harvard,  "I 
have  not  known  an  instance  in  which  the  public  loss  has 
seemed  so  great,  stilljless  in  which  so  many  men  and  women 
have  had  the  sense  of  severe  public  bereavement." 

The  popular  sentiment  at  once  demanded  that  the  imposing 
figure  of  Phillips  Brooks  should  be  perpetuated  in  a  bronze 
statue,  to  be  placed  in  the  square  in  front  of  Trinity  Church. 
The  eminent  sculptor,  St.  Gaudens,  consented  to  undertake 
the  work.  In  a  few  weeks,  so  rapidly  did  the  contributions 
pour  in  to  the  treasurer  of  the  fund,  Mr.  Henry  L.  Higgin- 
son,  from  rich  and  from  poor,  that  the  announcement  was 
made  that  the  large  sum  of  $95,000  had  been  received,  and 
no  more  would  be  required. 

The  Phillips  Brooks  House,  at  Harvard,  was  the  form 
which  another  tribute  took.  To  this  fund  the  class  of  1855 
contributed  most  generously,  and  at  a  meeting,  held  in  Lon- 
don, of  the  friends  of  Phillips  Brooks,  it  was  decided  that 
to  this  fund  the  English  contributions  should  be  given. 
The  house  has  been  built  and  dedicated  to  his  memory,  and 
to  Piety,  Charity,  and  Hospitality.  On  the  tablet  in  the 
central  hall  the  inscription  reads :  — 

A    PREACHER 

OF    RIGHTEOUSNESS    AND    HOPE 

MAJESTIC    IN    STATURE    IMPETUOUS    IN    UTTERANCE 

REJOICING    IN    THE    TRUTH 

UNHAMPERED    BY    BONDS    OP    CHURCH    OR    STATION 

HE    BROUGHT    BY    HIS    LIFE    AND    DOCTRINE 

FRESH    FAITH    TO    A    PEOPLE 

FRESH    MEANING    TO    ANCIENT    CREEDS 

TO    THIS    UNIVERSITY 

HE    GAVE 

CONSTANT    LOVE,    LARGE    SERVICE,    HIGH    EXAMPLE 

Additional  endowment  has  provided  for  the  expenses 
of  the  Phillips  Brooks  House,  making  it  an  attractive  centre 
for  the  religious  and  philanthropic  work  of  the  University. 
A  special  endowment  connected  with  it  is  the  William  Belden 
Noble  Lectures,  —  a  foundation  for  perpetuating  the  influence 
of  Jesus,  as  Phillips  Brooks  proclaimed  it  in  all  the  com- 
prehensiveness of  its  scope. 


mt.  57]  THE   TRIBUTES  943 

When  the  diocesan  convention  met  in  May,  1893,  they 
chose  Rev.  William  Lawrence,  as  one  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  friendship  and  discipleship  of  Phillips  Brooks,  to 
be  his  successor  as  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

In  England  a  window  was  placed  in  St.  Margaret's,  West- 
minster, whose  inscription  was  written  at  the  request  of  Arch- 
deacon Farrar  by  the  late  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Dr. 
Benson :  — 

Fervidus  eloquio,  sacra  doctissimus  arte, 

Suadendi  gravibus  vera  Deumque  viris, 
Quaereris  ab  sedem  populari  voce  regendam, 

Quaereris —  ab  sedem  rapte  domumque  Dei.1 

There  were  other  tributes  greater  than  these,  which  cannot 
be  described,  whose  mention  is  insufficient  to  reveal  what 
they  implied.  "You  will  see,"  said  one  who  was  present  at 
the  funeral  obsequies,  "such  a  demonstration  of  Christian 
unity  as  was  never  seen  in  the  world  before."  The  prophecy 
was  realized  in  many  ways.  These  two  may  be  mentioned : 
the  United  Service  of  the  churches  of  Boston  at  the  Old 
South  Meeting-House,  on  January  30,  when  representative 
ministers  of  every  denomination  were  present  and  spoke  in 
praise  of  Phillips  Brooks;  and  another  service  "in  loving 
memory  of  Phillips  Brooks,"  held  in  Music  Hall,  New  York, 
February  16,  where  the  same  universal  range  of  Christian 
appreciation  was  manifest.  The  city  of  Boston,  also,  held 
memorial  services  to  honor  Phillips  Brooks,  in  its  municipal 
capacity,  in  Music  Hall,  April  11,  when  an  oration,  pre- 
pared by  Dr.  Samuel  Eliot,  was  read  by  Colonel  Charles  R. 
Codman. 

These  were  representative  and  formal  occasions,  and  very 
significant  they  were ;  but  even  these  yield  in  importance  to 
the  outpouring  of  the  people's  mingled  grief  and  praise,  as 
it  went  on  for  days  and  weeks  and  months,  —  the  wonderful 
afterglow  of  the  great  life.     When  the  awful  intelligence 

1  These  lines  were  rendered  by  his  son,  Mr.  Arthur  Benson  :  — 
Fervent  with  speech,  moat  strong  with  sacred  art, 
To  light,  to  lift  the  struggling  human  heart ; 
To  feed  the  flock  :  Thy  people's  choice  was  given  — 
Required  on  earth,  but  ah  S  preferred  to  Heaven. 


944  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

that  Phillips  Brooks  was  dead  fell  upon  the  city  of  Boston 
and  the  country  at  large,  it  came  with  "the  crushing  and 
stunning  effect  of  unspeakable  calamity,"  —  a  sorrow  which 
at  first  could  find  no  words.  When  the  silence  was  broken 
and  utterance  began,  it  seemed  as  though  the  resources  of 
the  English  language  were  exhausted  to  find  fitting  terms 
wherein  to  express  the  admiration  and  love  for  Phillips 
Brooks.    The  words  spoken  by  the  Rev.  George  A.  Gordon, 

Never  to  the  mansions  where  the  mighty  rest, 
Since  their  foundation  came  a  nobler  guest,  — 

seemed  like  the  Sursum  Corda  of  the  Divine  Liturgy :  — 

Lift  up  your  hearts. 

We  lift  them  up  unto  the  Lord. 

The  sorrow  and  the  mourning  were  exchanged  for  a  song 
of  triumph  and  spiritual  exultation,  —  to  the  praise  of  God 
for  Phillips  Brooks.  So  it  went  on,  as  if  it  could  have  no 
ending,  during  the  memorable  months  which  all  remember 
and  still  recall  as  something  unwonted  in  human  experi- 
ence. The  "resolutions"  adopted  by  countless  societies  and 
organizations,  by  the  clergy  in  their  associations,  —  clergy  of 
every  name  ;  the  thousands  of  private  letters,  the  memorial 
sermons  preached  in  churches  everywhere,  in  this  country  and 
in  England,  and,  indeed,  wherever  the  English  language  is 
spoken  the  world  over ;  the  articles  in  every  newspaper,  edito- 
rial and  contributed,  —  in  this  mass  of  expression,  which  no 
one  can  adequately  measure,  was  the  highest  tribute  to  Phil- 
lips Brooks.  Exaggerated,  indeed,  it  was,  for  those  who 
wrote  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  the  effort  to  say  the 
strongest  things  in  his  praise,  —  exaggerated,  for  it  went  to 
the  very  verge,  and  sometimes  beyond  it,  of  what  it  is  lawful 
to  say  of  mortal  man  in  this  world,  and  yet  significant, 
not  to  be  ashamed  of,  characteristic,  in  that  it  revealed,  when 
taken  together,  what  Phillips  Brooks  had  been  to  his  age, 
and  also  made  known  the  age  itself  as  it  laid  its  inmost  being 
open  to  the  eye  of  God  and  man.  As  we  gaze  into  that  reve- 
lation of  humanity  we  discern  that  the  heart  of  man  is  reli- 
gious, made  for  God,  and  restless  till  it  finds  repose  in  Him. 


jet.  57]  THE   TRIBUTES  945 

These  are  some  of  the  texts  of  memorial  sermons :  — 

There  is  a  prince  and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel. 

And  Samuel  died ;  and  all  the  Israelites  were  gathered  together, 
and  lamented  him. 

Whatsoever  the  king  did  pleased  all  the  people. 

When  he  came  near,  the  whole  city  was  moved,  saying,  Who  is 
this? 

And  they  said  one  to  another,  Did  not  our  heart  hum  within 
us,  while  he  talked  with  us  by  the  way,  and  while  he  opened  to 
us  the  Scriptures  ? 

Behold,  I  have  given  him  for  a  witness  to  the  people,  a  leader 
and  commander  to  the  people. 

God  hath  anointed  thee  with  the  oil  of  gladness  above  thy 
fellows. 

At  a  service  in  Westminster  Abbey,  Canon  Duckworth 
spoke  these  words :  — 

I  think  of  the  great  American  bishop,  Phillips  Brooks,  tnat 
true  king  of  men,  whose  sudden  death  has  been  mourned  as  an 
irreparable  bereavement  in  the  churches  of  the  Old  World  as  in 
those  of  the  New.  No  more  signal  example  has  this  generation 
seen  of  that  deep,  comprehensive  work  which  the  Holy  Spirit 
accomplishes  when  He  takes  possession  of  the  whole  man.  There 
was  splendid  natural  faculty,  transfigured,  raised  to  its  highest 
power,  and  dedicated  to  its  highest  use.  There  was  the  whole 
intellectual  and  moral  being  suffused  with  the  flame  of  divine 
love,  and  aglow  with  those  fervid  convictions  which  found  on  his 
lips  such  matchless  expression.  And  then  there  was  the  mag- 
netic charm  of  personal  intercourse,  the  pure  teachings  of  the 
daily  life,  filled  full  of  high  interests,  and  still  more  persuasive 
in  its  unconscious  humility,  and  self-forgetfulness,  and  sympathy, 
than  those  burning  words  which,  wherever  he  was  to  be  heard, 
drew  thousands  to  listen,  as  one  has  truly  said,  "with  an  inten- 
sity of  expectation  as  if  the  very  mystery  of  existence  were  at 
last  to  stand  revealed."  Who  could  know  him  and  remain  skep- 
tical as  to  the  reality  of  that  divine  life  which  it  is  man's  highest 
glory  to  receive? 

President  Warren,  of  Boston  University,  spoke  of  the 
students  for  the  Christian  ministry  whom  Phillips  Brooks 
had  influenced :  — 

They  have  gone  out  into  all  the  world.     They  have  been  heard 
from  in  our  great  cities;  they  are  scattered  over  the  great  valley 
vol.  n 


946  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1893 

of  the  Mississippi;  they  are  on  the  Pacific  slope;  in  Japan, 
China,  India,  Mexico,  South  America.  They  toil  among  the 
most  varied  races  and  nationalities.  They  perpetuate  his  spirit 
and  widen  his  influence  in  the  great  human  family  beyond  any 
other  agency  whatsoever.  They  are  his  disciples  in  a  sense  and 
to  a  degree  applicable  to  no  other  living  men.  They  are  the 
pupils  who,  more  than  any  others,  are  going  to  make  the  widen- 
ing progress  of  the  news  of  the  great  preacher's  death  a  widening 
progress  of  a  sense  of  personal  bereavement  until  it  encircles  the 
globe. 

Among  the  many  tributes  these  words,  in  which  the  Kt. 
Kev.  A.  W.  Thorold,  the  English  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
dedicates  a  volume  of  sermons  to  Phillips  Brooks,  will  find 
an  echo  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  and  loved  him :  — 

TO   THE   DEAR   MEMORY   OF 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

BISHOP    OF    MASSACHUSETTS 

STRONG,    FEARLESS,    TENDER,    ELOQUENT 

INCAPABLE    OF    MEANNESS 

BLAZING   WITH    INDIGNATION   AT   ALL    KINDS   OF  WRONG 

HIS    HEART   AND   MIND   DEEP   AND    WIDE   AS 

THE    OCEAN    AT    HIS    DOOR 

SIMPLE    AND   TRANSPARENT   AS    A    CHILD 

KEEN    WITH    ALL    THE    KEENNESS    OF    HIS    RACE 

THIS    VOLUME    IS    INSCRIBED 

BY   A   BROTHER   ACROSS   THE   WATER 

WHO    CHERISHES    HIS    FRIENDSHIP   AS   A 

TREASURE    LAID    UP    IN    HEAVEN 

AT   THE   RESURRECTION   OF   THE   JUST 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Abbott,  Rev.  Lyman,  ii.  724,  925. 

Adams,  Hon.  C.  F.,  i.  559. 

Adams,  C.  F.,  sketch  of  early  life  of 

Phillips  Brooks,  i.  102. 
Addison,  Rev.  C.  M.,  ii.  870. 
Advent,   Church  of,   Philadelphia,    i. 

291, 293, 297, 330,  334, 346, 357,  375 ; 

ii.  761. 
"  Advertiser,"  Boston,  ii.  830  ;  account 

of  consecration,  ii.  873. 
Agamemnon  The,  the  sonnet  on,  i.  220. 
Alexandria  Seminary,  i.  144  ff. 
Alexis,  Grand  Duke,  ii.  30. 
Allen,  Rev.  F.  B.,  ii.  384,  433,  434. 
American  Embassy,  Rome,  i.  572. 
Andover,  i.  6,  9, 10,  11,  14,  31, 48, 353, 

513;  ii.  551,658. 
Andover  Theological  Seminary,  ii.  179. 
Antigone,  the  sonnet  on,  i.  222. 
Appleton,  W.  S.,  i.  564. 
Appleton  Chapel,  i.  247. 
Arthur,  President,  ii.  549. 
Atonement,  the,  ii.  350. 
Ayer,  M.  C,  ii.  681. 

Badger,  Rev.  H.  C.,  ii.  187. 

Baillie,  Lady  Frances,  ii.  311, 314, 325, 

335,  556,  793,  913,  923,  927. 
Bampton    Lectures,    Phillips  Brooks, 

invitation  to  deliver  them,  ii.  648. 
Bancroft,  Rev.  L.  W.,  i.  298. 
Barnes,  Rev.  Albert,  i.  453. 
Beecher,  H.  W.,  ii.  645. 
Bellows,  Rev.  H.  W.,  i.  488. 
Bible,  doctrine  of,  ii.  351,  510. 
Biddle,  James  S.,  i.  487. 
Biddle,  Mrs.  James  S.,  ii.  851. 
Bohlen,  John,  i.   525,   627,    629;    ii. 

242. 
Bohlen  Lectures,  ii.  209  ff.,  242. 
Bolles,  Frank,  ii.  286. 
Boston,  England,  ii.  335. 
Boxford,  ii.  619. 
Bowen,  Professor  F.,  ii.  753. 
Bradford  Academy,  ii.  179. 
Bradley,  Dean,  ii.  325. 
Brimmer,  Martin,  ii.  7,  831. 


Brooke,  Rev.  Stopford,  ii.  271. 
Brooke,    Thomas,     founder    of     the 

Brooks  family,  i.  19. 
Brooks,  Miss  Agnes,  ii.  805. 
Brooks,  Arthur,  i.  32,  574,  579,  588, 

608;  ii.  56,  59,  74,  78,  94,  147,  157, 

159, 161, 162, 165,  252, 272,  310,  337, 

341,  385,  394, 418,  435, 460, 473,  549, 

562,  580, 586,  700,  703,  727,  849, 859, 

890,  901,  941. 
Brooks,  Caleb,  i.  20. 
Brooks,  Rev.  Edward,  i.  21,  23. 
Brooks,  Frederick,  i.  32,  428,  433, 455, 

460,  464,  527,  532,  588,  590,  624 ;  ii. 

41,  56 ;  death,  ii.  98. 
Brooks,  George,  i.  31,  405,  418,  421, 

431,  432,  436,  438. 
Brooks,  Miss  Gertrude,  ii.   662,  805, 

914,  932. 
Brooks,  John,  Governor,  i.  20. 
Brooks,  John  Cotton,  i.  32,  588 ;  ii.  29, 

56,  274,  323,  756,  854,  907,  941. 
Brooks,  Mary  Anne   (Phillips),  i.  18, 

31,  35,  42,  46;  letters  to  Phillips 

Brooks,i.  207-214, 329, 422-424,  543, 

554,  590,  603,  606,  607  ;  ii.  169,  262, 

265 ;    letters  from  Phillips  Brooks, 

ii.   165,    168,    254;    character    and 

death,  ii.  252  ff. 
Brooks,  Peter  Chardon,  i.  25,  27  ff. 
Brooks,  Phillips,  birth,  i.  31. 

early  life,  i.  4S. 

first  school,  i.  49. 

first  letter,  i.  49. 

Adams  School,  i.  51. 

indifference  to  games,  i.  51. 

Boston  Latin  School,  i.  52  ;  first  com- 
position, i.  58. 

early  essays,  i.  58-65  ;  first  verses,  i. 
66. 

enters  Harvard  College,  i.  68 ;  college 
societies,  i.  70. 

reading,  i.  75-76. 

college  essays,  i.  77-87. 

religious  attitude  in  college,  i.  89-90. 

Commencement  part,  i.  98. 

usher  in  Latin  School,  i.  100, 105. 


950 


INDEX 


letters  to  G.  C.  Sawyer,  i.  112-116. 

resigns  ushership,  i.  116. 

poem  "  Ruth,"  i.  127. 

enters  Alexandria  Seminary,  i.  148. 

note-books,  i.  178. 

his  reading,  first  year,  i.  179  ff. 

verse-writing,  i.  183. 

confirmation,  i.  196. 

summer  vacation,  i.  197  ff. 

returns  to  Alexandria,  i.  200. 

letters  home  describing  life  in  the 
seminary,  i.  200  ff. 

letters  from  home,  i.  205  ff. 

reading  in  second  year,  i.  218 ;  son- 
nets, i.  219  ff. 

philosophical  tendencies,  i,  223. 

summer  vacation,  1858,  i.  268. 

returns  to  Alexandria,  i.  273. 

takes  charge  of  preparatory  depart- 
ment, i.  274. 

first  sermon,  i.  280. 

call  to  Church  of  the  Advent,  Phila- 
delphia, i.  291. 

Commencement  part  and  Ordination, 
i.  299. 

verses  on  first  sermon,  i.  322. 

begins  ministry  in  Philadelphia,  i. 
330. 

preaches  for  Dr.  Vinton,  i.  334. 

comment  on  hanging  of  John  Brown, 
i.  337. 

call  to  Harrisburg,  i.  344. 

call  to  Cincinnati,  i.  344. 

ordination  to  the  priesthood,  i.  346. 

summer  vacation,  1860,  i.  353. 

calls  from  Providence,  Newport,  and 
San  Francisco,  i.  356. 

call  to  Holy  Trinity,  Philadelphia,  i. 
357. 

letters  to  members  of  his  family,  i. 
358-375. 

letter  declining  Holy  Trinity,  i. 
366. 

resigns  the  Advent,  i.  381. 

preaches  in  St.  Paul's  and  Trinity, 
Boston,  i.  384. 

visits  Niagara,  i.  403. 

first  journey  to  White  Mountains,  i. 
404. 

call  to  St.  Paul's,  Brookline,  i.  409. 

attracted  to  mission  life  in  Cali- 
fornia, i.  429. 

anxiety  about  progress  of  the  war,  i. 
434. 

letter  to  his  brother  George  in  camp, 
i.  436. 

the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  i. 
437. 

letter  to  his  mother  on  the  death  of 
his  brother  George,  i.  441. 


parish  work  and   preaching,  i.  444, 

445. 
acquaintance   with    Dr.    Washburn 

and  Bishop  Clark  begins,  i.  446. 
vigorous    advocacy    of    the    Union 

cause,  i.  448  ff. 
goes    to    Gettysburg    to    care    for 

wounded  and  prisoners,  i.  454. 
White  Mountains,  1863,  i.  456. 
protest   against    Bishop    Hopkins's 

tract  on  slavery,  i.  461. 
interest  in  colored  people,  i.  464. 
Thanksgiving  sermon,  1863,  i.  466. 
first  "  watch  meeting,"  1863,  i.  478. 
decides  to  resign  Holy  Trinity,  and 

accept  professorship  in  Divinity 

School,  i.  480. 
determines  to  remain  at  Holy  Trin- 
ity, i.  493. 
studies  in  Mohammedanism,  i.  497. 
sermon  on  the  Prayer  Book,  i.  510. 
work  among  soldiers,  i.  519. 
calls  from  San  Francisco,  i.  525. 
prayer  at  Independence  Hall  after 

fall  of  Richmond,  i.  530. 
sermon  on  death  of  Lincoln,  i.  534. 
estimate  of  Lincoln,  i.  539. 
Commencement  sermon  at  Divinity 

School,  i.  547. 
prayer    at   the  Commemoration   of 

Harvard  men  who  fell  in  the  war, 

i.  550. 
goes  abroad  for  a  year,  1865,  i.  556. 
meets  German  professors  at  Halle, 

i.  562. 
preaches  in  Rome,  i.  572. 
letter     to    Arthur     Brooks     from 

Athens,  i.  574. 
preaches  in  Athens,  i.  575. 
Holy  Week  at  Rome,  1866,  i.  580. 
impressions  of  Browning,  i.  583. 
speech  in  behalf  of  freedmen,  i.  584. 
interest    in    Southern   churches,    i. 

585. 
completion  of  tower  of  Holy  Trinity, 

i.587. 
invited  to  be   dean  of  Theological 

School,  Cambridge,  i.  587. 
study  of  Sibylline  Oracles,  i.  594. 
impression  of  Pan-Anglican  Synod, 

1867,  i.  595. 
letter    to  Dean   Stanley    regarding 

Bishop  Hopkins,  i.  596. 
begins  to  preach  in  non-Episcopal 

churches,  i.  599. 
call  to  be  rector  of  Trinity  Church, 

Boston,  1868,  i.  601. 
call  declined,  i.  605. 
chaplain,  Memorial  Hall,  Harvard, 

i.  607. 


INDEX 


95i 


letter  fa  Hon.  R.  C.  Winthrop,  i.  616. 

convention  sermon,  i.  619. 

Phi  Beta  Kappa  oration  at  Brown, 
i.  625. 

renewal  of  call  from  Trinity,  Bos- 
ton, i.  627. 

resigns  Holy  Trinity,  i.  628. 

preaches  at  West  Point,  i.  630. 

closes  ministry  at  Holy  Trinity,  i. 
630. 

begins  rectorship  of  Trinity,  Boston, 
ii.  1. 

speech  in  Music  Hall  on  behalf  of 
Fine  Arts  Museum,  ii.  29. 

Army  of  the  Potomac  reunion,  ii.  30. 

A.  and  H.  Artillery  Company  ser- 
mon, ii.  30. 

Peace  Jubilee,  ii.  31. 

Overseer  of  Harvard  College,  1870, 
ii.  33. 

Member  State  Board  of  Education, 
ii.  33. 

address  at  Vassar,  ii.  33. 

summer  in  Europe,  1870,  ii.  40. 

preaches  at  Yale,  ii.  48. 

summer  abroad,  1872,  ii.  51. 

meets  Prince  Oscar,  ii.  52. 

the  Great  Boston  Fire,  ii.  67. 

nominated  for  Bishop  of  Massachu- 
setts, 1873,  ii.  82. 

oration  at  Andover,  ii.  85. 

addresses  Andover  students,  ii.  91. 

Price  Lecture  in  King's  Chapel,  ii. 
93. 

summer  abroad,  1874,  ii.  94. 

preaches  in  Westminster  Abbey,  ii. 
94. 

services  in  Huntington  Hall,  ii.  101. 

address  on  "  Milton  "  at  Worcester, 
ii.  117. 

address  on  "  Courage,"  ii.  118. 

building  of  the  new  church,  ii.  122. 

consecration  of  the  new  church,  ii. 
136. 

Yale  lectures  on  Preaching,  ii.  146. 

summer  abroad,  1877,  ii.  151. 

preaches  in  Westminster  a  second 
time,  ii.  152. 

receives  degree  of  D.  D.  from  Har- 
vard, ii.  153. 

attends  Church  Congress  in  N.  Y.,  ii. 
157. 

visits  Philadelphia,  ii.  158. 

summer  at  Hingham,  1878,  ii.  162. 

entertains  Dean  Stanley,  ii.  164. 

death  of  his  father,  ii.  165  ff . 

Lectures  on  Preaching,  ii.  179  ff. 

publishes  first  volume  of  sermons, 
ii.  188  ff. 


lectures  at  Yale  on   "  Teaching  of 

Religion,"  ii.  196  ff. 
Bohlen  Lectures  on  "  Influence  of 

Jesus,"  ii.  209. 
visits  Philadelphia  for  Bohlen  Lec- 
tures, ii.  242. 
preaches  at  diocesan  convention,  ii. 

245. 
death  of  his  mother,  ii.  252  ff. 
preaches  at  Windsor  Castle  before 

the  Queen,  ii.  267. 
preaches  in  Westminster  Abbey,  ii. 

268. 
asked  to  be  provost  of  University  of 

Pennsylvania,  ii.  277. 
called  to  be   preacher  to   Harvard 

and  professor  of  Christian  Ethics, 

ii.  277  ff. 
memorial  sermon  on  Dr.  Vinton,  ii. 

305. 
article  on  Dean  Stanley,  ii.  312. 
speech  at  Church  Congress,  1881,  ii. 

315. 
second  volume  of  sermons,  ii.  319. 
collects   subscriptions    for    Chapter 

House  of  Westminster,  ii.  324. 
a  year  abroad,  1882-83,  ii.  329. 
in  Germany,  ii.  338. 
religious  convictions,  ii.  346. 
in  India,  ii.  383. 
in  Spain,  ii.  420. 
in  London,  ii.  424. 
returns  to  Boston,  ii.  441. 
sermon  in  Trinity  Church,  ii.  442. 
attends  General  Convention  in  Phila- 
delphia, ii.  459. 
address  on  Luther  in  New  York,  ii. 

461. 
Church  Congress  address,  1884,  ii. 

487. 
visits  Washington,  1884,  ii.  549. 
lectures  on    "  Tolerance "    in  New 

York,  1885,  ii.  560. 
oration  at  Latin  School  Anniversary, 

ii.  562. 
visits  England,  1885,  ii.  565. 
receives  D.  D.  at  Oxford,  ii.  568. 
visits  Cambridge,  ii.  571. 
elected  assistant  bishop  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, 1886,  ii.  602. 
visits  California,  ii.  612. 
elected  to  first  Board  of  Preachers, 

Harvard  College,  ii.  616. 
attends  General  Convention,  Chicago, 

1886,  ii.  629. 
preaches  in    Trinity    on    changing 

name  of  Episcopal  Church,  ii.  632. 
preaches  at  250th  Anniversary   of 

Harvard  CoUege,  ii.  639. 


9S2 


INDEX 


takes  part  in  200th  anniversary  of 
King's  Chapel,  ii.  642. 

preaches  in  Fane  ail  Hall,  ii.  652. 

raises  $50,000  for  the  building  of 
St.  Andrew's,  ii.  657. 

spends  summer  abroad,  1887,  ii.  662. 

attends  Queen's  Jubilee  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  ii.  663. 

ill  at  Geneva,  ii.  666. 

attends  Church  Congress  at  Louis- 
ville, ii.  667. 

accident  in  Philadelphia,  ii.  670. 

preaches  at  National  Prison  Con- 
gress, ii.  689. 

opens  St.  Andrew's  Church,  ii.  691. 

is  urged  to  go  abroad  by  Proprietors 
of  Trinity,  ii.  709. 

visits  Japan,  1889,  ii.  711. 

addresses  students  of  Harvard  Col- 
lege, ii.  718. 

attends  General  Convention  in  New 
York,  ii.  719. 

addresses  Evangelical  Alliance,  ii. 
725. 

addresses  Chamber  of  Commerce,  ii. 
732. 

speaks  at  dinner  of  Leather  Trade, 
ii.  733. 

preaches  a  course  of  Lent  sermons 
at  St.  Paul's  Church,  ii.  736. 

preaches  a  course  of  Lent  sermons  at 
Trinity  Church,  New  York,  ii.  737. 

preaches  Baccalaureate  Sermon  at 
Harvard,  ii.  752. 

preaches  Baccalaureate  Sermon  at 
Institute  of  Technology,  ii.  752. 

goes  abroad,  1890,  ii.  755. 

attends  Church  Congress,  1890,  ii. 
758. 

addresses  Harvard  students  on  the 
ministry,  ii.  802. 

his  power  in  the  sick-room,  ii.  807. 

bis  last  Lent  addresses  in  Trinity, 
Boston,  1891,  ii.  817. 

preaches  Lent  sermons  to  men  at 
St.  Paul's,  Boston,  ii.  819. 

preaches  sermon  on  Bishop  Paddock, 
ii.  823. 

elected  bishop,  ii.  827. 

resigns  preachership  at  Harvard,  ii. 
850. 

resigns  rectorship  of  Trinity,  ii.  861. 

attends  Alumni  dinner,  Episcopal 
Theological  School,  ii.  865. 

preaches  in  New  York,  ii.  866. 

preaches  in  Appleton  Chapel  for  the 
last  time,  ii.  866. 

consecrated  bishop,  ii.  873. 

asked  to  remain  in  rectory,  ii.  879. 


reception  by  Episcopalian  Club,  ii. 
881. 

presides   at    Church    Congress    in 
Washington,  ii.  883. 

visitation  of  his  diocese,  ii.  888. 

suffers  from  grippe,  ii.  890. 

visits  Philadelphia,  ii.  891. 

Lent  lectures  at  Trinity,  ii.  891. 

noon  addresses  to  men  at  St.  Paul's, 
ii.892. 

goes  abroad,  1892,  ii.  903. 

preaches  in  Westminster  Abbey,  ii. 
903. 

returns  on  the  Pavonia,  ii.  908. 

visits  Philadelphia,  ii.  9l3. 

attends  General  Convention,  Balti- 
more, ii.  915. 

addresses  Johns  Hopkins  students, 
ii.  916. 

dedication  of  Diocesan    House,  ii. 
919. 

attends  dinner  of  New  England  So- 
ciety in  Brooklyn,  ii.  928. 

watch  night  service  at  Trinity,  ii. 
930. 

consecrates  St.  Mary's,  East  Boston, 
ii.  932. 
Brooks,  Samuel,  son  of  Caleb  Brooks, 

married  Sarah  Boylston,  i.  21. 
Brooks,  Miss  Susan,  ii.  805. 
Brooks,  William  Gray,  i.  29  ;  marriage 

to  Mary  Anne  Phillips,  i.  31 ;  charac- 
ter, i.  34, 42 ;  confirmation,  i.  44, 117 ; 

letters  to  Phillips  Brooks,  i.  205-207, 

300,  435 ;  visit  to  Alexandria,  i.  298 ; 

to  Philadelphia,  i.  399 ;  letters  from 

Phillips  Brooks  to,  i.  157-167,  333, 

418, 477, 484,  496,  515, 520,  523, 589, 

597,602,623;  letter  to  Phillips  Brooks 

warning  him  against  radicalism,  i. 

522;   on  a  year  abroad,  i.  546,  622, 

624,  627  ;  death,  ii.  165. 
Brooks,  William  Gray,  Jr.,  i.  31,  278, 

337, 342, 417, 428,  429,  442-443,  462, 

474, 475, 479, 485, 521, 523,  526,  542, 

625 ;  ii.  399,  421,  671,  936. 
Brooks,  Mrs.  W.  G.,  Jr.,  ii.  662, 910. 
Brooks,  Rev.  W.  H.,  ii.  897- 
Brown,  Abigail,  i.  23. 
Browne,  Elder,  controversy  with  Rev. 

George  Phillips,  i.  4. 
Browne,  Rev.  Percy,  i.  609 ;  ii.  52,  57, 

105,  300, 337,  403,  892, 930,939. 
Browning,  estimate  of,  i.  583. 
Bryce,  Professor  James,  ii.  669,  809, 

885. 
Buck,  Rev.  G.  H.,  letter  to,  ii.  708. 
Burne-Jones,  ii.  335. 
Bunsen,  Baron  George  von,  ii.  368,  392. 


INDEX 


953 


Capen,  Miss,  first  teacher  of  Phillips 

Brooks,  i.  49. 
Carols,  "  0  little  town  of  Bethlehem," 

and  others,  i.  581,  610 ;  ii.  713. 
Chase,  Thomas,  ii.  304. 
Chase,  Chief  Justice,  i.  5S4. 
Choate,  Joseph  H.,  ii.  864. 
Choephori,  The,  sonnet  on,  i.  220. 
Choirs,  surpliced  female,  ii.  755. 
Christology,  ii.  348. 
Chunder  Sen,  ii.  394. 
Church,  the,  ii.  354. 
Church  Congress,  ii.  81,  157,  758. 
Civil  Service  Reform,  ii.  721. 
Clark,  Rt.  Rev.  T.  M.,  i.  446 ;  ii.  4,  457, 

857,  884, 906, 940. 

Clarke,  Rev.  James  Freeman,  ii.  140, 
685,  693. 

Clericus  Club,  Boston,  ii.  57,  91,  196, 
337,  488,  523,  762,  780,  867,  931. 

Clericus  Club,  Philadelphia,  i.  609. 

Codman,  C.  R.,  L  420 ;  ii.  7,  54,  297, 
327. 

Coffin,  Lemuel,  i.  389,  555,  628  ;  ii.  605. 

Columbia  College,  ii.  647. 

Communion  service,  at  Trinity,  ii.  797. 

Convention,  General,  1S83,  ii.  459. 

Cooke,  Prof.  J.  P.,  ii.  282. 

Cooper,  Rev.  Charles  D.,  i.  340,  389, 
547,  608,  618,  624 ;  ii.  40,  75,  155, 
158,  159, 161, 162,  166,  326,  327,328, 
401, 434,  459,  472, 577, 603, 638,  753, 

858,  863,  891,  902. 
Cornell  University,  ii.  799. 

Cotton,  Rev.  John,  address  upon,  by 

Phillips  Brooks,  i.  24. 
Cremation,  ii.  787. 
Cummins,  Bishop,  ii.  79. 

Dalton,  Edward,  ii.  50. 
Deblois,  Stephen  G.,  ii.  139. 
Deland,  L.  F.,  ii.  652,  815,  922,  937. 
Derby,  Miss  Lucy,  ii.  553,  560. 
Dexter,  George  M.,  i.  460,  602,  605, 

627  ;  ii.  7,  70. 
Dillaway,  C.  H.,  ii.  563. 
Dillon,  Richard,  sexton  of  Trinity,  ii. 

68,70. 
Divinity  School,  Philadelphia,  i.  480, 

32. 
Dix,  Rev.  Morgan,  ii.  737. 
Donald,  Rev.  E.  W.,  ii.  132,  674,  911, 

930. 
Drown,  Rev.  E.  L.,  i.  196. 
Duckworth,  Canon,  ii.  945. 
Dyer,  Rev.  Heman,  i.  344,  387,  409  ; 


Eastburn,  Rt.  Rev.  Manton,i.  196,  295, 
458 ;  ii.  3,  16,  49,  56,  76. 


Eliot,  C.  W.,  i.  122 ;  ii.  30, 279,  831. 

Eliot,  Samuel,  ii.  391. 

Ellis,  Rev.  George  E,  ii.  143, 284. 

Emmanuel  Church,  Boston,  i.  526, 618 ; 
ii.  150. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  ii.  29. 

Episcopal  Theological  School,  Cam- 
bridge, i.  587 ;  ii.  736,  865,  881. 

Eumenides,  The,  sonnet  on,  i.  221. 

Evangelical  Alliance,  ii.  725. 

Evangelical  Education  Society,  ii.  72, 
74,  75. 

Evangelical  theology,  Brooks's  diver- 
gence from,  ii.  668. 

Everett,  Edward,  i.  212,  472. 

Ewer,  Rev.  F.  C,  i.  647. 

Faneuil  Hall,  sermons  in,  ii.  651,  701, 

788. 
Farrar,  Rev.  F.  W.,  ii.  152,  554,  566, 

576,  581,  752,  903,  943. 
First  Church  in  Boston,  i.  24,  36,  38 ; 

ii.  274. 
Fisher,  Rev.  Professor  G.  P.,  i.  626. 
Foote,  Rev.  H.  W.,  ii.  93. 
Foxcroft,  Phoebe,  i.  12,  14 ;  ii.  778. 
Franks,  Rev.  James  P.,  i.  506, 514, 530, 

553,  588  ;  ii.  57,  153,  309,  334,  422, 

435,  865,  881,  937. 
Fremantle,  Canon,  ii.  95. 
Frothingham,  Rev.  N.  L.,  i.  36,  38; 

letter  on  Thanksgiving  sermon,  i.  472. 
Frothingham,  Rev.  O.  B.,  ii.  140. 
Furness,  Dr.,  i.  600. 

Galloupe,  C.  W.,  ii.  8. 

Gardner,  Francis,  i.  58, 107, 108 ;  eulogy 

on,  by  Phillips  Brooks,  i.  111. 
Garrison,  Rev.  J.  F.,  ii.  283. 
Gibson,  Rev.  Mr.,  i.  299. 
Gladstone,  W.  E.,  ii.  572. 
Globe  Theatre,  ii.  701. 
God,  nature  of,  ii.  346. 
Goethe,  sonnet  on,  i.  272. 
Good  Friday  service  at  the  Old  South, 

ii.  821. 
Goodwin,  Rev.  D.  L.,  i.  511,  524. 
Gordon,  Rev.  George  A.,  ii.  781,  897, 

944. 
Gorham,  Lydia,  i.  17. 
Grafton,  Bishop  C.  C,  ii.  700. 
Grant,   Gen.   U.    S.,  i.   547;    ii.  151, 

575. 
Griffis,  Rev.  W.  E.,  ii.  m 
Grimm,  Professor  H.,  ii.  374. 
Groton  School,  ii.  790. 
Grove,  Sir  George,  ii.  314. 

Hale,  Rev.  Edward  E.,  ii.  29,  882. 
Hall,  Rt  Rev.  A.  C.  A.,  ii.  862. 


954 


INDEX 


Hall,  Mrs.  R.  J.,  ii.  250. 

"Happiness  and  Content,"  sonnet,  ii. 

756. 
Harlan,  Judge,  ii.  778. 
Harvard  Club,  N.  Y.,  ii.  804. 
Harvard  College,  i.  68, 70, 71, 405,  513, 

548 ;  ii.  28,  153,  277,  460,  614,  752, 

802,  866. 
Harvard  College,  lines  on,  i.  348. 
Harvard  Commemoration  Day,  i.  548. 
Harvard  Memorial  Hall,  i.  607. 
Harwood,  Rev.  E.,  ii.  48,  49,  74. 
Hasty  Pudding  Club,  i.  76,  80,  393. 
Hedge,  Rev.  F.  H,  i.  513 ;  ii.  30. 
Higginson,  Henry  L. ,  ii.  294. 
Hill,  Dr.,  of  Athens,  i.  323,  575,  577. 
Hingham,  ii.  162. 
Hoar,  Senator,  ii.  584. 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  ii.  338,  686. 
Holy  Trinity  Church,  Philadelphia,  i. 

3:34,  357,  366,  380,  533,  598 ;  ii.  274. 
Hooper,  E.  W.,  ii.  561. 
Hopkins,  Bishop  John  Henry,  tract  on 

slavery,  i.  460 ;  Pan-Anglican  Synod, 

i.  595. 
Hopkins,  Rev.  John  H.,  ii.  284,  838, 

858. 
Huntington,  Rt.  Rev.  F.  D.,  i.  298, 526, 

618. 
Huntington,  Rev.  W.  R.,  i.  528,  551 ; 

ii.  82,  293,  315,  457,  558,  694,  782, 

853,  902. 

Ince,  Professor,  ii.  568. 

Indian  religion,  impressions  of,  ii.  407. 

Individualism,  ii.  226. 

"  Influence  of  Jesus,"  ii.  209. 

Ingersoll,  Robert,  ii.  647. 

Institute  of  Technology,  ii.  799. 

Ipswich,  ii.  248. 

Jerome,  sonnet  on,  i.  223. 

Johns  Hopkins  University,  ii.  790. 

Jowett,  Professor,  ii.  648. 

Keller,  Helen,  ii.  806. 

Kidner,  Rev.  R.,  ii.  656,  665,  792. 

King's  Chapel,  i.  93. 

Kirk,  Rev.  E.  N.,  i.  298. 

Knowles,  Rev.  John,  i.  3. 

La  Farge,  John,  ii.  134. 

Latin  School,  Boston,  i.  52-54,  57, 100 ; 

ii.  562. 
Lawrence,  Rt.  Rev.  W.,  ii.  28,  90,  800, 

887,  920. 
Learoyd,  Rev.  C.  H,  ii.  452,  457,  923. 
Leathes,  Professor  Stanley,  ii.  95. 
"  Lectures  on  Preaching,"  ii.  175. 
Lee,  Col.  Henry,  i.  551 ;  ii.  709. 


Lefroy,    Rev.  G.    A.,    ii.    390,   477, 

687 
Lincoln,  death  of,  i.  533. 
Long,  John  D.,  ii.  289. 
Loring,  Rev.  Bailey,  i.  39. 
Lotze,  ii.  341,  534. 
Lovering,  Professor  J.,  ii.  702. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  ii.  831. 
Lyman,  Dr.,  ii.  163. 
Lyman,  Theodore,  ii.  136. 
Leeds,  Rev.  George,  i.  564. 
"  Life,"  lines  on,  ii.  366. 

Maconachie,  Robert,  ii.  390,  688,  907. 
Marriage  and  Divorce,  ii.  719. 
Massachusetts    Historical   Society,    ii. 

244. 
Matlack,  Rev.  R.  C,  i.  158,  449;  ii. 

72,  75. 
Mcllvaine,  Bishop,  i.  426. 
McVickar,  Rt.  Rev.  W.  N.,  ii.  37,  49, 

156,  241,  274,  334, 400, 476, 575,  608, 

660,  694,  701, 710, 758,  891, 905, 906, 

926. 
Meade,  Bishop,  i.  299. 
Melville,  Rev.  Henry,  i.  559. 
Meredith,  Miss,  ii.  158,  692. 
Merrill,  Moses,  ii.  563. 
Messer,  Mrs.,  ii.  268,  272. 
Milman,  Dean,  i.  559. 
"  Mind  Cure,"  ii.  662,  787. 
Miracles,  ii.  735. 
Missionaries  in  India,  ii.  414. 
Missions,  foreign,  i.  322. 
"Missions,"  ii.  561. 
Mitchell,  Miss  Elizabeth  K,  i.  632 ;  ii. 

37-40,  43-51,  66-69,  80,  83-89. 
Mitchell,  Dr.  S.  Weir,  i.  339,  389,  454; 

"  An     Appreciation     of       Phillips 

Brooks,"i.631;  ii.  41,  55,  99, 388,  438, 

555,  919,  926. 
Mohammedanism,  i.  497. 
Montgomery,  Rev.  H.  H,  ii.  550,  708. 
Moody,  Dwight  L.,  ii.  148. 
Morrill,  C.  J.,  ii.  794,  879. 
Morris,  William,  ii.  335. 
Mulford,  Rev.  Elisha.  ii.  309. 

"  Natura  Naturans,"  ii.  457. 
Newton,  Rev.  R.  H..  ii.  419,  559. 
Newton,  W.  W.,  i.  410,  609 ;  ii.  49,  57, 

473,  687,  754,  863. 
Nyegaard,  M.,  ii.  475,  576. 

Old  South  Church,  Boston,  i.  599,  617 ; 

ii.  821. 
Origen,  sonnet  on,  i.  222. 
Osgood,  Rev.  David,  i.  25,26,  27- 

Packard,  Professor  Joseph,  i.  177. 


INDEX 


955 


Paddock,  Rt.  Rev.  B.  H.,  ii.  82,  93, 

458,  611,  822. 
Paddock,  Rev.  Wilbur  F.,  i.  339,  390; 

ii.  168,  248,  602. 
Paine,  Robt.  Treat,  ii.  7,  8,47,51,57, 

96,  97,  137,  290,  336,  387,  390,  432, 

574,  612,  G64,  714,  821,  851,888, 905. 
Paine,  Mrs.  R.  T.,  ii.  405,  586,  669, 698, 

881. 
Park,  Professor  E.  A.,  ii.  90. 
Parker,  Chas.  H.,  i.  602;  ii.  7,  8,  297, 

862. 
Parks,  Miss  Alice,  ii.  849. 
Parks,  Rev.  Leighton,  ii.  160,  672, 855, 

860,  923,  937. 
Peabody,  Rev.  A.  P.,  ii.  897,  942. 
Peabody,  Rev.  F.  G.,  ii.  617,  757,  850, 

865. 
Phillips,  Rev.  George,  i.  1,  3,  4. 
Phillips,  Hon.  John,  i.  17,  18. 
Phillips,  Judge  Samuel,  i.  10-13,  15. 
Phillips,  Hon.  Samuel,  L  10. 
Phillips,  Rev.  Samuel,  i.  6,  8,  9. 
Phillips,  Samuel,  of  Salem,  i.  6. 
Phillips,  Rev.  Samuel,  pastor  of  church 

at  Rowley,  i.  5. 
Phillips,  Susan,  i.  42,  50, 417, 523,  527 ; 

ii.  253,  383,  421. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  i.  417 ;  ii.  547. 
Phillips  Academy,  Andover,  i.  13  ;  ii. 

161. 
Phillips  Academy,  Exeter,  ii.  161. 
Phillips  Brooks'  House,  Harvard  Col- 
lege, ii.  942. 
Philo,  sonnet  on,  i.  229. 
Plumptre,  Dean,  ii.  249,  314. 
Pomfret,  i.  513. 

Potter,  Rt.  Rev.  Alonzo,  i.  346,  461. 
Potter,  Rt.  Rev.  H.  C,  i.  578,  601 ;  ii. 

4,  82,  669,  754,  850,  877,  880,  940. 
Prayer,  ii.  350. 
Prayer  meetings  at  Alexandria,  i.  318, 

319. 
Princeton,  ii.  790. 
Prison  Congress,  ii.  689. 
Pynchon,  Rev.  T.  R.,  ii.  563. 

Rabaut,  dissertation  upon,  by  Phillips 

Brooks,  i.  98. 
Randolph,  Rt.  Rev.  A.  M.,  student  life 

at  Alexandria,  i.  176,  299 ;  583,  585, 

611 ;  ii.  940. 
Redner,  Lewis  H.,  organist  of  Holy 

Trinity,  i.  476,  518,  586,  610. 
Reed,  Benjamin  Tyler,  i.  588. 
Reed,  Rev.  James,  ii.  273. 
Remsen,  Mr.,  i.  298,  299,  338. 
Revelation,  ii.  347. 
Reynolds,  Dr.  Edward,  i.  614. 
Rice,  Alex.  H.,  ii.  638. 


Richards,  Rev.  C.  A.  L.,  student  life 
at  Alexandria,  i.  171,406;  Phillips 
Brooks  and  the  Union,  i.  449, 453, 
460,  583,  587,  589,  608 ;  ii.  413,  755, 
760, 855. 

Richardson,  H.  EL,  ii.  7,  122, 132,  133, 
334,  621. 

"  Robert  Elsmere,"  ii.  692. 

Roberts,  Rev.  W.  D.,  ii.  692. 

Rome,  Holy  Week,  i.  580. 

Ropes,  John  C,  ii.  7,  57,  334,  795. 

Ross,  Rev.  H.,  ii.  900. 

Rowley,  ii.  619. 

St.  Andrew's  Church,  ii.  656,  664,669, 
691,  792,  869. 

St.  John's  Memorial,  Cambridge, 
monthly  sermon  by  Phillips  Brooks, 
ii.  27. 

St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  sermon  in,  ii. 
471. 

St.  Paul's  Church,  Boston,  i.  41-43, 
384,  457  ;  ii.  557,  736,  819. 

St.  Paul's  School,  Concord,  i.  634. 

Sawyer,  George  C.,  i.  70  ;  college  rem- 
iniscences, i.  70,  93,  95, 112, 119,  151, 
156,  161,  168,  215. 

Schopenhauer,  ii.  539. 

Seeley,  Professor  J.  R.,  ii.  213. 

Sermon,  first,  lines  on,  i.  322. 

Sharon  Mission,  Alexandria,  Va.,  i.  290, 
291. 

Shelley,  sonnet  on,  i.  138. 

Sibylline  Oracles,  Phillips  Brooks's  in- 
terest in  them,  i.  594. 

Smith,  Goldwin,  i.  506. 

Smith,  Rev.  John  Cotton,  ii.  4,  80. 

Smith,  Rev.  R.  Cotton,  ii.  701. 

Sociology,  ii.  224. 

Sowdon,  A.  J.  C,  ii.  862,  879,  881,  889, 
915,  940. 

Sparrow,  Rev.  Dr.,  i.  274,  275,  285, 
298,  309 ;  ii.  81. 

Stanley,  Dean  A.  P.,  i.  596;  ii.  94, 
151,  152,  164,  311,  793. 

Stanley,  H.  M.,  ii.  864. 

Stepniak,  ii.  865. 

Stevens,  Bishop,  ii.  607. 

Stille,  Professor  C.  J.,  i.  460,  488. 

Stone,  Rev.  A.  L.,  i.  439. 

Stone,  Rev.  James  Kent,  i.  454. 

Stone,  Rev.  John  S.,  i.  41,  605 ;  ii.  27, 
57,  1S7;  death  of,  ii.  326. 

Strong,  Rev.  G.  A.,  reminiscences  of 
life  at  Alexandria  Seminary,  i.  170, 
269,  339;  letters  from  Phillips 
Brooks,  i.  427,  578,  608,  618,  625 ;  ii. 
69,  99,  164,  167,  251,  385,  404,  474, 
586,  691. 

Sumner,  Senator  Charles,  i.  552. 


9S6 


INDEX 


Temple  Church,  sermon  in,  ii.  470. 

Tennyson,  ii.  428,  765,  904. 

"The  House  in  Boston,"  sonnet,  ii. 
908. 

Thanksgiving  Day  Sermons,  ii.  695. 

Thayer,  Mrs.  N.,  ii.  912. 

Theological  Seminary,  Andover,  found- 
ing of,  i.  14. 

Thomas,  Rev.  Reuen,  ii.  901. 

Thorold,  Bishop,  ii.  314,  946. 

Tiffany,  Rev.  C.  C,  ii.  5,  293. 

"Tolerance,"  lectures  on,  ii.  498. 

Trinity  Church,  Boston,  i.  384,  457, 
459  ;  calls  Phillips  Brooks  to  rector- 
ship, i.  601,  605,  617  ;  renews  call, 
1869,  i.  627,  629  ;  ii.  1 ;  destroyed  by 
fire,  1872,  ii.  8 ;  building  of  the  new 
church,  ii.  124;  consecration,  ii.  136  ; 
Sunday  evening  services  in  Lent, 
ii.  159,  789 ;  last  sermon  as  rector,  ii. 
867. 

Trinity  Club,  ii.  651,  762. 

Trinity  Dispensary,  ii.  792. 

Truth,  sonnet  on,  ii.  356. 

Tulloch,  Principal,  ii.  121. 

Twenty  Club,  ii.  648. 

Tyng,  Rev.  S.  H.,  i.  298 ;  ii.  146, 149. 

Vail,  Bishop,  ii.  564. 
Vaughan,  Rev.  C.  J.,  ii.  573. 
Venice,  sonnet  on,  ii.  381. 
v©rs©8  * 
"  A  Picture,"  ii.  364. 
"  A  Young  Face,"  i.  327. 
"  Madonna  and  Child,"  ii.  757. 
"  No  wonder,  if  't  is  thus  he  looks," 

ii.  854. 
"  Our  souls  are  tethered  round  and 

round,"  i.  253. 
"  Smile  on  old  Earth  and  dream  that 

now,"  i.  232. 
"  The  while  I  listened  came  a  word," 

ii.  872. 
11  Truth,"  i.  243. 

"  Upon  the  brow  God  lays  his  hand," 
L231. 


"  We  sit  together  in  our  soul's  high 
window,  dearest,"  i.  328. 
Victoria,  Queen,  ii.  267. 
Vincent  Hospital,  ii.  792. 
Vinton,  Rev.  A.  H.,  i.  43 ;  writes  to 

Phillips  Brooks  and  his  brothers,  ii. 

56;     142,  280;    estimate    of    early 

preaching  of  Phillips  Brooks,  i.  336 ; 

493, 495,  513,  547, 587  ;  letter  on  the 

call  to  Trinity,  1868,  ii.  604,  629  ;  ii. 

49, 57,59,136, 170,301 ;  death,  ii.  305. 

Walden,  Rev.  Treadwell,  i.  446,  514 ; 

ii.  57. 
Walker,  President  James,  i.  121. 
Warren,  President,  ii.  832. 
Washburn,  Rev.  E.  A.,  i.  446  ;  ii.  74. 
"  Watch  Night "  at  Trinity,  ii.  699, 729, 

930. 
Waterson,  Rev.  Robert  C,  ii.  171. 
Watertown,  i.  2,  19. 
Wednesday  evening  lectures  at  Trinity, 

ii.  508. 
Wellesley  College,  ii.  800. 
Wendell,  Evart,  ii.  390. 
Westminster  Abbey,  ii.  94,  268,  471, 

566. 
Wharton,    Rev.   Dr.   Francis,  i.  606; 

ii.  27. 
White,  Hannah,  i.  7. 
Whitehouse,  Rt.  Rev.  H.  J.,  ii.  77. 
Whitman,  Mrs.  Henry,  ii.  596. 
Williams,  Bishop,  ii.  156, 839, 857,  877, 

878. 
Williams,  Bishop,  of  Japan,  ii.  714. 
WUliams  College,  ii.  799. 
Windsor  Castle,  ii.  267. 
Winthrop,  Hon.  Robert  C,  i.  473,  558, 

616;  ii.  7,  151,  171,  327,  673,  794, 

859. 
Wise,  Rev.  H.  A.,i.  335,  339. 
Woman  Suffrage,  ii.  787. 
Woodward,  Judge  G.  W.,  i.  378,  462. 

Tale,  ii.  175,  196,  798. 
Yocum,  Rev.  T.  S.,  i.  339. 


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